The Paths We Tread
by SeraphinArgento
Summary: "What did you think, that we could just walk right back into our normal lives? Normal died in the Department of Mysteries! All we have left is the fight. All we can do is try to survive." AU after OotP, WIP. Ensemble cast with no true main character, Golden-Trio centric.
1. Prologue: Small Steps Spiraling Down

**A/N:** Assuming I'm successful, this will be an epic-length story, AU after OotP. It encompasses the trio's 6th year and continues onward through the rest of the war. There will be character death, abuse, assault, and many other triggers. If these will cause you true discomfort, please stop reading here.

The focus of this story will be on the characters and their journeys, so call it drama/adventure, I suppose. There will be pairings, but they won't be the point of the plot, and I will not reveal them in advance. They will develop quite a while into the story. I will try to update once weekly, as I'm already a ways into this. Please review with any thoughts/comments. This is beta'd only by myself, so any spelling or glaring grammatical errors that you notice, please go ahead and point out. (Eventually, I'll need a Brit-picker, I suppose, as I'm an American gal.)

And now, we begin.

 **The Paths We Tread**

Prologue:

Small Steps Spiraling Down

 _Somewhere in England_

 _July 27_ _th_ _, 1996_

" _Exxxcellent,"_ the sibilant voice echoed in the darkness. Pettigrew trembled, his knees sore and his throat dry, as his lord sat with his eyes closed, a gentle smile on his face. The giant snake slithered past, brushing against his back, and he grimaced as his stomach turned.

Images flashed through his mind, him turned into a rat and running in the darkness, snarling and hissing echoing behind him from different directions – hunted by his old friend from one direction, by his master's pet from another.

He shook his head as another voice brought him back to present, Lucius Malfoy's drawling tones echoing through the darkened room.

"I quite thought so, my Lord," the disgraced aristocrat murmured softly. He stood by the fire, his face half-turned away from the Dark Lord, his hair gleaning in the firelight fresh from a shower. It had been perhaps two hours since he had been broken from Azkaban, the Dementors quickly eliminating all human guards. He had gone to Voldemort first, of course, then straight into the bath before speaking with anyone else. He stood regal and proud, a muscle in his jaw twitching every so often.

"With the _allies_ of Potter eliminated," he continued, "the boy will blame himself and spiral into depression. Draco tells me the boy is prone to melancholy and self-loathing as it is, it shan't take much to push him over the edge. A handful of his friends, dead and with messages left for him, should do the trick just fine."

"And you see no place," Dolohov questioned sharply, "for any of his friends among our ranks? Children they are, certainly, but some are... _talented._ " A sick smile twisted his darkened features, and his tongue darted out and wet his lips quickly. Pettigrew suppressed a shudder. The man had been obsessed with young Hermione Granger since that day in the Ministry, speaking often of how _musical_ he thought her screams. He wanted, quite desperately, to have her in his grasp again.

Malfoy sneered. "Which would you take? Only the Weasley brats and Longbottom are of acceptable stock, and even then, their parents were the enemy. Besides, they are," he added in a tone of grudging respect, " _loyal_ little things. Only the Imperius curse would sway them. And unwilling servants are _vexing_. "

Dolohov made a noise of dissent as Voldemort nodded thoughtfully. "Potter had a gift for inspiring loyalty," he said simply. "His father was much the same, would you not agree, Wormtail?" He smirked down at the cowering man, his red eyes flashing.

 _James_ , Wormtail thought brokenly, shaking his head. "No," Voldemort continued. "I suppose you wouldn't know much about loyalty, would you, my traitorous friend?"

Red eyes glared across the room to where Malfoy and Dolohov stood. "Capture the Mudblood and the Weasley girl alive," he instructed. "We shall use them to send Potter a more – _poignant_ message. Exterminate the rest, every last family member of his _Inner Circle_. Be ready to move on Halloween."

Malfoy nodded sharply and Dolohov grinned. Both men swept from the room, Malfoy whipping Pettigrew with his cloak as he passed.

"Oh, and Dolohov?" Voldemort called softly, the man freezing instantly in the doorway. Voldemort smiled again, that obscene fatherly smile. "Bring the Mudblood girl to me _untouched_ , or I shall know."

Dolohov scowled, but bowed slightly at the waist, and turned on his heel.

Hundreds of miles away, Harry Potter woke with a start.

* * *

 _Granger Household_

 _London, England_

 _July 27th, 1996_

Being home felt strange.

Hermione sat curled in her window seat, a book propped open on her knees. The only source of light was a small ornate lamp sitting on her bedside table, and the only sound, the steady rain that fell outside the window. Night would fall soon, and she hadn't seen the sun peek out once all day.

She shivered, pulling her light shawl closer around her shoulders, and leaned her forehead against the glass. Pain flared in her midsection again and she grimaced, taking slow, deep breaths as she fought the suddenly increasing heat in her veins.

Ironic, really, that when Dolohov had attacked her, he had gone for her blood. The Entrail-Expelling curse, while nasty and lethal if he'd been successful, was the less insidious thing he had done to her. Not for the first time, she questioned her decision to keep the boys ( _her boys_ , part of her mind cried) in the dark.

 _You should_ _ **tell**_ **,** her traitorous mind whispered. _They have a right to know you're going to -_

"Hermione?"

She turned her head slowly, the action jarring her neck and causing her to wince. Her mother stood in the doorway, that ever-present look of sadness and fear on her face. Emma Granger, Hermione reflected, had never been good at hiding her thoughts. Finally, she thought with an angry snort, her parents understood what their daughter faced day in and day out, what she had walked into when she joined the wizarding world all those years before.

A sneer curled across the face of the man standing at her mother's right shoulder, as he stared straight into her eyes as if he could hear her self-pitying diatribe. With a slight flinch, she forced down her pain and fear, and straightened her spine, her chin lifting and a slight – though forced – smile teasing at the corner of her lips. A flash of something almost like approval lit Snape's black eyes and Hermione bit back a smirk.

The potions master stepped around the two women still hovering in the doorway, crossing the room to sit at Hermione's desk. He reached into his crossbody bag and began pulling out flask after flask, and Hermione forced her face to remain blank as she watched him set each one carefully on the wooden surface. The rain began lashing harder at the windows as he retrieved the tenth vial, and her mother and Madam Pomfrey stepped fully into the room.

Sharing a not-so-subtle glance of concern, Emma sat gingerly on the corner of Hermione's bed as Madam Pomfrey knelt before the teen. The matron drew her wand and began murmuring incantations under her breath, numbers appearing and floating in the air around them. As she pressed her hand to Hermione's forehead, feeling for fever or chill, she and Snape frowned at the numbers shimmering around her form.

"The toxicity isn't decreasing," Pomfrey muttered as Snape rose from his chair, flicking his wand and making an IV setup appear in the room. Hermione grimaced, shrugging out of her shawl and rolling up her sleeve, as her mother gave her a watery smile.

"But it hasn't risen," Snape replied smoothly, giving Hermione, and then Emma, a pointed look. " _Something_ we're doing is working, at least in part."

"The transfusions?" Emma Granger asked quietly, and Hermione scoffed under her breath. Her parents would _**both**_ prefer to believe that it was the blood transfusions that were combating her condition, as it seemed much more "normal" to them. They could understand it, unlike all the charms and potions. Idly, she wondered if they would still be comforted if they knew all that was added to the blood that was being given her.

As if on cue, Snape smirked slightly, picking up the small vial which held only slightly glittering, transparent liquid. With a steady hand, he poured three drops into the IV bag, followed by a ruby red, viscous liquid. Leaning forward, he attached one end of the IV to Hermione's arm, then tapped his wand to the bag. As was now a regular practice, Hermione conjured a mirror to float in front of her face, so she could watch the transfusion begin to do its work.

She was hideous, she thought blankly, as the tingling began in her arm. Her face was tinged with blue, her veins all standing out in stark relief against her skin. Glancing down at her arm, she watched the progression of the fluids through her veins, the slight golden light emanating from within her skin. Slowly, it coursed throughout her body, the blue tinge fading and her veins, while still visible, now less prominent under her slightly-warmed flesh.

All in all, the process took roughly twenty minutes. Hermione sat perfectly still, watching her face in the mirror, and watching as her eyes slowly turned back from the bloodshot red they had been, to her normal coffee-brown. She ignored the soft pings of magic as the numbers floating around her form slowly dropped, she ignored her mother's soft whispering with Pomfrey; all but her skin regaining warmth and color escaped her notice.

When the IV bag was empty, and the glow had faded, it was Snape who gently removed the IV tube from her arm, and Snape who vanished the contraption. Pomfrey bustled around her, taking reading after reading, before finally proclaiming the transfusion a success yet again. The matron handed the teen a small vial from Snape's collection, and she knocked the potion back with a cringe. Instantly, the slight lingering fuzziness in her head began to clear.

Her task complete, the mediwitch patted Hermione's hand gently, then turned and left the room, Emma hesitating only a moment before following. The moment they had gone, Snape pointed his wand at the door and closed it with a sharp _thud_.

Hermione was silent for several moments, but finally, she spoke. One hand toying with the edge of her shawl, now wrapped around her again, she said softly, "I'm not ready for this."

Snape resumed his seat at her desk, watching her with dark eyes, seemingly considering his response. Finally, he offered, "You could tell them. Fools though they are, much as they vex me, they would _support_ you." He had an expression on his face as if he couldn't believe what he had just said, and Hermione couldn't help but laugh – somehow, he managed to make _support_ sound like a dirty word.

"I don't want anyone's pity," she said staunchly. "Madam Pomfrey and my parents, Professor McGonagall, they're all bad enough. I can't bear - "

She trailed off despondently, and Snape said nothing. With a sigh, she rubbed at her eyes tiredly, and Snape let out an uncomfortable cough at the sign of weakness.

"To be truthful, news of your infirmity spreading would be disastrous," he murmured finally. "Yet the energy you will have to expend to maintain the glamours – "

"I can handle it," she replied stubbornly, and the corner of his mouth lifted in an almost-grin.

"Yes," he replied, "I daresay you can. I simply wish - "

"No!" she said sharply. "I've just told you, I want NO pity."

This time, he did smile. "The dreaded potions master, feeling pity for a Gryffindor brat?" he murmured snidely, and Hermione chuckled again. "Very well, practice," he said, raising an eyebrow.

Hermione took a deep breath, nodded, and raised her wand. With a flick of her wrist and several whispered incantations, the last visible traces of her veins vanished. Her eyes brightened, and the bags disappeared from underneath them. Only her hair and nails still showed any signs of ill-health, her nails without shine and her hair limp and, as always, slightly frizzy. She jabbed her wand this time, and her hair took on a slight bounce and shine, and smoothed slightly, though still fraying at the ends. She brought back her mirror, eyeing herself critically.

"Well done," Snape said softly, a rare smile gracing his features. "See how long you can maintain it. Owl me when it drops. And have Tonks and Shacklebolt give you some suggestions for improving the Glamour when they arrive."

Hermione nodded absently, still staring in the mirror. Tears formed at the corner of her eyes, and Snape clasped her shoulder lightly as he stood. His movement startled her and she raised her eyes, smiling sadly at the man who, these days like so many others, was responsible for saving her life. "Thank you," she whispered, and Snape scoffed.

Completing their now-typical back-and-forth, he replied only, "Thank me when we've found a cure." With one last, sharp glance, he turned on his heel and vanished.

Alone again, Hermione turned back on her windowseat, pulled her knees back up to her chest, and propped her book back open. Leaning her head against the window once more, she closed her eyes, and listened to the rain.

* * *

 _The Burrow_

 _Ottery St. Catchpole_

 _July 30, 1996_

Severus Snape appeared on a dusty stretch of dirt road, looking up at the most ramshackle house he'd ever had the displeasure of seeing. Shifting his cross-body bag, he stood an d scowled a few moments before he began walking toward the front-door. He hated these thrice-weekly visits, but fortunately, they were almost at an end.

Molly met him at the door, her usual smile looking rather forced of late. She saw him through to the sitting room and quickly disappeared – to start a pot of tea, or begin making the dinner she'd try to guilt him into joining, he was sure. The purpose of his visit sat silently, staring into the fire and twitching the fingers of his right hand ever-so-often.

Snape said nothing, and waited patiently for his presence to be noticed. The red-headed teen didn't move, his still shaggy hair glinting in the firelight and his jaw clenched, tips of his ears slightly reddened. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and the tail-end of raised, scarred welts was visible on his arms. As he watched, the teen stiffened in his seat, lowering his head into his hands, muttering under his breath.

The weeks following the Department of Mysteries fiasco had been undoubtedly difficult, though none had it worse than Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley, he thought solemnly. The poisoning of Granger's blood had caused her to die twice in her hospital bed before he and Pomfrey had realized what was happening – and truth be told, they had almost lost her for good more than once, before an inelegant and _temporary_ solution had been found. The indubitable Mr. Weasley, however, was now subject to what, in Snape's opinion, was an arguably worse horror. He watched, seemingly dispassionately, as shudders wracked the lanky young man's frame, and finally, after several minutes passed, Ronald Weasley sat up, and turned towards the professor.

"What was it?" Snape asked softly, dreading the answer.

"McKinnon," the youngest Mr. Weasley said shortly. He swallowed convulsively, but managed – _this time_ – to hold the contents of his stomach.

Snape grimaced in sympathy. He hadn't been present for the death of Marlene McKinnon, but he had heard much about it after the fact – Rosier always did love to boast. She had died broken, battered, and unable to scream, after being used in the worst ways possible. That Weasley had just had to watch that – had to see it through Rosier's eyes, as if _he_ were the perpetrator –

The young man in question was watching him like a hawk, as he cast several privacy charms around the sitting room. Leaning forward in the chair, Snape retrieved a small bottle of ointment from his bag.

Ron, with a grimace, rolled his sleeves up still further and placed both elbows on the end table between them. With a flick of his wand, ointment coated the scars on his arm, and seeped slowly into the skin. Weasley let out a quiet hiss – Scaradicate salve tended to burn.

"I think," Snape said quietly, "the further treatments will prove ineffective."

Weasley simply shrugged, a wry smile on his face. "Battle scars aren't going to upset me, sir," he said quietly. His voice, as it always was now, was tinged with a quiet solemnity. "Are we going to get to it?"

Snape nodded sharply, raising his wand and meeting his student's eyes. He didn't bother with any instructions; Weasley already knew what to do. "Legilimens," he intoned, and Weasley stiffened again in his chair.

It was three hours before they left that room, Weasley pale and shaking, Snape scowling and chilled. He handed his student a calming draught, nodded once at Molly, now sitting at the kitchen table, and swept from the house. As he readied to disapparate, he heard Molly's crooning voice as she tried to soothe her son.

 _Foolish woman_ , he thought bitterly. _You can't soothe away these nightmares._

Mad-Eye materialized in the walkway before him, the Weasley patriarch at his side. The pair nodded at the potions master and walked away, disappearing inside the house. Snape watched silently as the wards slammed down around the property, shimmering in the air around him and then vanishing.

He spun once on his heel...

And he was gone.

* * *

 _Longbottom Manor_

 _Somewhere near Glasgow, Scotland_

 _July 29, 1996_

Neville flexed his fingers slowly, letting out a slow, shaky breath as pain shot up his arms. Spots swam before his eyes and he shook his head roughly, trying to force it away.

"Easy!" McGonagall said sharply, frowning, and Neville scoffed slightly under his breath. Closing his eyes quickly, he reopened them, focused on his target, and uncurled his fingers.

"Reparo," he said softly, and watched as the shard of his shattered clay pot fitted themselves together. His hand was trembling noticeably, the motions jarring his wand roughly in place. He swallowed harshly, his brow furrowing as he glared at his hands and slowly, the trembling lessened until neither of them could see his wand move.

 _That would have been impressive_ , _for_ _ **me**_ , he thought darkly, _if I hadn't shattered the thing by missing my target to begin with_. Shoving aside thoughts of inadequacy, he raised his wand again, sharp concentration keeping his hand somewhat steady, and shot the arrow spell through the tiny hoop across the greenhouse.

"Good," McGonagall said approvingly. "Well done, Mr. Longbottom."

He smiled softly. His professor had gone out of her way to compliment him since she heard the way his gran regularly cut him down. It was almost amusing, seeing the usually-stern Gryffindor head bestow praise after praise upon him.

Their physical therapy sessions were almost at an end. Over the course of several weeks, he had learned several stretches and exercises to help with the muscle cramps; he had rebuilt the strength in his legs, the dexterity in his hands, and the endurance of his lungs. Now, except for his hands, his physical condition was almost _better_ than it had been before the Cruciatus exposure.

Except for his hands. Except for the constant, shooting pains through his body. He was almost better off.

Stockier now, instead of husky, he had shot up several inches over the summer and now stood an easy six foot. His hands, though unsteady, were broader, his shoulders were wide, and his jaw was hardened, his baby fat almost gone. The constant exercise had melted away his excess pounds, and his clumsiness, too. He was fairly certain, however, that he'd be the only _male_ at Hogwarts to be practicing both yoga – for balance – and tai chi – for his calm.

McGonagall was watching him with pursed lips, he realized, and the expression on her face said that she had tried to get his attention more than once. He shook his head once more to clear it, focusing in on his teacher.

"Good," she said again simply, then pointed across the greenhouse. A new dummy appeared in the opposite corner, a bullseye on its center. As he watched, it sped from side to side, veering across, then forward, then back. She stood back, folded her arms across her chest, and glared at him over her glasses. "Hit the target," she said sharply. "No damage to the rest."

Neville nodded , took a deep breath, and raised his wand.

* * *

 _Somewhere in England_

 _July 30, 1996_

"Not fast enough!" Lupin said sharply, and Ginny wheezed harshly as she raced through the obstacle course, spells flying around her. Lupin and Charlie circled the course, firing at her and her partner every so often as they dodged, rolled, and skidded along. A jet of fire shot out of the hedge to her right, and Ginny hurtled into Luna with a sharp cry, sending them both slamming into the ground. The dreamy blonde's hair was smoking at the ends and she gulped in air frantically, shoving her hair away from her eyes with a shaky hand. A glance at Ginny and she nodded; she was fine.

They struggled to their feet against the heavy packs on their backs, and raced again for the exit. As they ran, Ginny shot stunning spells towards their attackers, while Luna wove a shield charm around them. The young part-fay's eyes glowed as the air around them sparkled, and Ginny fought to keep her head from spinning under the sedating influence of the magic in the air.

A sharp turn, hurtling around a corner, and the ground beneath them gave way. Luna yelped as they landed roughly, coming to a rest in a pile of leaves and branches. They surged to their feet again and kept going, as the branches raised up and started to bind together, blocking their path. Growling under her breath, Ginny skidded to a halt, Luna slamming into her back and almost knocking them both down again.

The redhead watched with narrowed eyes as the branches curved in, knotting together and blocking their path. She raised her wand, drew a deep breath -

"Bombarda!" she cried, and the branches exploded. Grabbing Luna's hand, she dragged the blond through the gap even as it closed, branches tearing at their clothes. Around them, javelins started hurling themselves out of the earthen walls of their passage, and Ginny groaned in annoyance as Luna shoved her down to the floor.

* * *

 _Privet Drive_

 _Little Whinging, Surrey_

 _July 30, 1996_

He knelt on his bed, eyes closed and hands raised before him in concentration. Dumbledore sat silently at his desk, watching as his student traced shapes and patterns in the air. Across the room, Bill Weasley stood with his back pressed to the window, arms folded across his chest and his wand dangling from his left hand.

They had spent the better part of an hour going through the runes and movements he would need for the channeling spell, but Harry still didn't understand _what_ he was trying to accomplish. Ron had always spoken of his eldest brother's brilliance, however, and _Dumbledore_ said the runeswork was important, so Harry simply gritted his teeth, shoved aside his impatience, and got on with it.

He traced a dozen more designs in the air, moving slowly, carefully, lest he draw one wrong. A whispered breath echoed from Harry's lips, and the runic shapes turned a shimmering gold, melting together and exploding outwards in a burst of song. In the spot where the runes had been, a dove appeared, flying away with a startled cry and a rush of wings. Harry opened his eyes, and smiled.

" _That_ ," Dumbledore said, smiling softly, "was beautiful."

Harry turned towards his headmaster and smiled back, then frowned just as suddenly, his brow furrowing. "How is this going to help me fight?" he asked sharply. "The shields, the transfigurations, the curse and hex training, all of _that_ makes sense. How is summoning a bird going to help?"

Dumbledore steepled his fingers before his face, looking at Harry over the edge of his half-moon glasses.

"Focus, Harry," the Headmaster returned, "what do you _feel_?"

Harry frowned thoughtfully. Biting back his instant reply, he leaned back on heels and turned his senses inward. He could feel a tingling throughout his body, a gentle, quiet hum and a steady warmth – his _magic,_ he realized with a gasp. He could feel his magic, could sense it like he had never done before, except in Ollivander's shop.

He glanced sharply at Bill, who quirked one eyebrow silently, then turned again to Dumbledore, and his mentor smiled. "Exactly," Dumbledore said softly. "Now that you know how to find your core, and better channel your magic – we can delve into _true_ wandless abilities."

A feral smile grew on Harry's face.

* * *

 _Grimmauld Place_

 _London, England_

 _August 30, 1996_

The Order of the Phoenix reconvened two days before the school year was to begin.

The members gathered silently in the dusty and solemn house, arrayed around the table in odd groups. The summer had been long, drawn out, and eventful – not least of which, eventful in that the Order had swelled by six members, against the express wishes of Molly Weasley. With a strange look, half-grimace, half-smirk, Ron Weasley settled himself in his assigned seating with Mad-Eye on his left and his father to his right. He met his sister's dark gaze and grinned when she glared roughly at Mad-Eye. They had begun group combat training four weeks before, and Mad-Eye had chosen to attack her vanity and roughly chop off her hair with a cutting curse that, if it had connected with her, could have taken off her ear as well.

Ginny Weasley knew how to hold a grudge like nobody else, and Mad-Eye should be watching his back even more than usual, he thought idly.

As everyone settled down in their chairs, his eyes drifted around the table. Hermione sat adjacent from him, talking with Shacklebolt and Snape in low, earnest voices. Harry was, as he should had been, to the left of the head of the table, turning a small runic charm over in his hands again and again. Across from him was Bill, his eyes resting on the moody teen. Fleur squeezed his shoulder and leaned into him, whispering something in his ear, and he nodded but didn't look away.

Luna sat to Ginny's right, perched on the end of her chair with Charlie on her other side. The dreamy blonde Ravenclaw was tracing symbols into the table with her wand, smiling now and then as a puff of light flashed up from the table's surface. Brow furrowed, Lupin watched her from Ginny's left as she giggled under her breath, and Ginny rolled her eyes fondly.

Neville sat at the furthest end of the table, McGonagall at his right shoulder, his hands laying flat and still on the table-top. A book floated in front of the pair, now and then turning a page with a crisp noise, and both looked utterly engrossed and unaware of their surroundings.

Ron let his gaze travel over the others gathered at the table, from Tonks who nursed a cup of coffee in one hand and a set of maps in the other, to his mother, scowling at all the teens, to Dung, muttering sharply under his breath as he scribbled in a small notebook.

This was it. This was their whole force.

He turned sharply as Dumbledore strode into the room, Hagrid and – holy Merlin, _Viktor Krum_ at his heels. Hagrid and Krum split off, heading for the far end of the table with Neville and McGonagall, and as Ron watched, his father shifted in his chair and shot a strange look towards Krum. Ron turned towards his father with a questioning look, and the balding redhead shook his head, biting his lip sharply.

Ron sighed, rubbing his right arm absently. Across the table, Luna looked up from her carvings and watched his hands, a sad, lost look on her face. He pulled a face at her and she shrugged, going back to tracing the table.

Dumbledore cleared his throat once, and all side-conversations stopped. Luna ceased etching the table, and McGonagall dropped her book with a _thud_.

"We must discuss continuing the children's training at school," he said quietly. "For obvious reasons, it would be best that the rest of the student body not realize the – _extent –_ of their lessons." At this, Snape frowned darkly, and the rest of the table nodded in agreement.

"Harry," he continued, "had a suggestion for a location where we could continue their training, that would not be easily accessible. That, in fact, only he, or those taught by him, could open."

Ginny stiffened in her chair, and Luna squeezed her hand as Lupin rubbed her shoulder. At the end of the table, Molly Weasley bristled, glaring, to Ron's shock, at Lupin.

"Miss Weasley," Dumbledore said gently, his eyes solemn as he looked at the young redheaded girl, "do you feel you could brave the chamber once more?"

Ginny scowled, shoving her hands under the table, as Ron, Hermione, Neville and Harry all looked at her worriedly. Hermione worried her lower lip between her teeth and Neville stared solemnly as they all waited for her response.

A moment later, Ginny Weasley tossed her newly-regrown hair back from her shoulder and smiled. "A memory isn't going to control where I go and what I do," she scoffed, and Fleur smiled at the young girl as every Weasley nodded approvingly.

"It is settled then?" Dumbledore asked, and Ginny nodded.

Shacklebolt cleared his throat, and Hermione and Tonks immediately turned to look at him. "It would be best if we did a sweep of the place first," he countered. "Yes, we're training the kids in combat, and most scenarios, they can handle well enough with just themselves at this point – but what if Riddle left something else nasty down there? Or, worse, what if there was another basilisk egg?"

Harry frowned. "I don't remember sensing another snake down there," he argued, but McGonagall grimaced.

"You were in terrible shape, Potter, when you and the Weasleys escaped the Chamber," she pointed out gently. "You may not have noticed."

"Agreed," Snape said immediately. "Potter, if you could reopen the chamber for us this weekend upcoming, myself, Shacklebolt, Mad-Eye, and Tonks can go in and scour the chamber. Perhaps you could assist, wolf," he added roughly, and Lupin merely nodded as Ginny and Luna scowled.

"What of transport?" his dad asked, and Mum nodded sharply. "If our story is that the kids met up a few times over the summer, but didn't stay together, and if we are keeping secret their trainers' identities – " He trailed off, looking around the table.

"Simple enough," Lupin said easily. He shifted in his chair as he spoke, rubbing one hand tiredly over his eyes. "Harry can go stay with the Weasleys tonight and tomorrow, and act like normal in that they usually stay together the last couple weeks. Neville can travel with his grandmother and Shacklebolt, who are known friends, and Emmeline was good friends with Luna's mother, so it would make sense that Xenophilius would reach out to his wife's auror friend if he felt nervous."

Drawing a breath, he added, "I'll go to Hermione's parents and get a sample from her dad for Polyjuice and Tonks can morph into her mum. They only speak to those who are here when they go to the platform anyway, so it is unlikely that anyone will know the difference."

"A sound plan," Pomfrey, their newest member besides the teens, agreed. "But it leaves her the most open for attack. To the outside, it will look as if she is only escorted by her Muggle parents." She shot Hermione a sad smile, and Hermione just shrugged.

"Severus can attend them," Dumbledore said easily. "His disillusionment charm is strongest here, and he'll be the first to know of danger. William, Charles, I want you with your parents and Harry," he instructed.

"What can - "

"We do?" Fred and George asked, the twins sitting side by side in shocking magenta robes.

Dumbledore smiled. "Unless you've changed your minds - "

"No," the twins said in unison.

The headmaster held his hands up in defeat as Ron and Ginny shot each other confused looks. "Then in lieu of that, there's no need for an assignment in this for the pair of you. All the student members are guarded sufficiently, and the train will be patrolled. There is no need for any other guard."

The twins scowled, leaning back in their chairs.

"Now," he said, flicking his wand and lighting the hearth as a harsh wind swirled outside. "On to the real business of the evening. Harry?"

The Potter heir sighed, still passing the runic charm from hand to hand. "Some of you know this already," he said quietly, "but a few weeks back, I had one of my _dreams_."

Ron glanced at his dad worriedly as the older man paled, and his mum stood, walking over to her husband and standing behind him with her hands on his shoulders. Harry sent them an apologetic glance – _still blaming himself, the git,_ Ron thought angrily – and continued.

"Voldemort was in a room with Pettigrew, Malfoy, and Dolohov – " Here, Remus, Ginny, and Hermione all stiffened, and Shacklebolt squeezed Hermione's hand as Ginny and Remus exchanged dark looks. "They were talking about an attack plan on Halloween. Basically," Harry paused, "they plan to _eliminate_ us. Most of us."

"What," Neville asked, his voice hard but quiet, "do you mean by _most_?"

Harry flinched. "The orders are to take Hermione and Ginny alive, and bring them to Voldemort as a lesson. For me."

Hermione paled, and Ginny's eyes flashed.

"Poor Tommy-boy misses his pen pal, does he?" she asked viciously, and her mother sobbed. Down the table, Snape let out a surprised snort, and shot Ginny a look of grudging respect. Beside the redheaded young woman, Lupin growled under his breath.

"Let them try," the lycanthrope snarled.

"Any _helpful_ information about this attack, Potter?" Snape asked with a snide tone, and Harry shook his head.

"Only that Dolohov is obsessed with you," Harry told Hermione, his eyes sad and haunted. "Voldemort ordered him specifically to bring you to him _untouched;_ he seemed to think that Dolohov needed a reminder."

"He shan't get near you," Shacklebolt told the young brunette witch, and she shook her head in silence. Standing from her spot down the table, Tonks moved to Hermione's side, transfigured her straight-backed chair into an armchair – shoving Shacklebolt and Snape aside as she did so – and climbed in beside the young woman, pulling Hermione to her side in a firm hug.

"So with no idea as to their actual plan," Emmeline Vance spoke up, "what are our options?"

"We know one thing," Ron replied. "We know when they intend to do this."

"Unless," Charlie countered, "Voldemort wanted Harry to hear the date, so we'd be ready at the wrong time."

"It's all we've got," Ron argued back. "We can make sure that Gin and 'Mione are in a safe location on Halloween night, and be ready to fight, the rest of us."

At this, both girls glared at him, and Hermione's mouth opened to retort.

" _Don't_ ," echoed around the table, as Harry, Ron, Neville, Luna, and most of their mentors glared at the pair of stubborn teen girls. "This isn't up for discussion," Harry, their defacto leader, continued. "If we know the intention is to capture you, we cannot have you accessible during that time. Who knows what they'll make you do," he swallowed and let out a shaky breath, "or what they'll do to you."

Looking up, and staring straight in Hermione's eyes, he said quietly, "You're my sister in all but blood. Ginny _is_ Ron's sister. Do you think it's any coincidence they chose the two of you to kidnap?" he asked miserably, and Hermione sniffled as Ginny continued to glare.

"I feel left out," Luna murmured, breaking the charged moment, and several people laughed. Harry glanced down the table, a fond smile on his face.

"Don't worry," he said quietly, in an unusual show of emotion, "I love you, too, Luna."

She grinned at him, for once looking completely aware. "I know."

"Touching," Snape sneered, "though all these declarations are, we have yet to find a solution to this issue."

"Have you heard anything about it?" Neville asked, meeting the glare of his once-Boggart without pause.

The dour man scowled. "No."

"Then there isn't much we _can_ do, right now," Pomfrey said softly, and he huffed.

"All of you are combat-trained now, da?" Viktor asked suddenly, his gruff voice echoing through the room. Hermione's eyes trained on his face as he looked around the room, meeting each of their eyes. "All know how to use many weapons?"

Shacklebolt shook his head. "Spell combat, yes, and we've done some hand-to-hand, but no real weapons training as yet."

"I can travel to the school or meet them on Friday nights," Krum offered, "teach staff and sword, knives. " At this, Ginny's and Harry's eyes gleamed with excitement, and Neville and Hermione exchanged worried glances.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, stroking his extremely long beard. "I see no issue with such an idea. Certainly, the more aptitude they acquire, the better." He looked at Krum sharply, "You will demonstrate your skills to Lupin, Shacklebolt, and Alastor?" Viktor nodded silently. "Agreed."

"Anything else?" the headmaster asked, and Snape sighed softly.

"McClaggen. Pucey. Flint. Bulstrode."

"Marked?" McGonagall asked sharply, and Pomfrey drew in a breath.

Snape simply nodded.

"McClaggen is a Gryffindor," Neville said sadly.

"So was Wormtail," Ron muttered bitterly, and Lupin and Harry winced.

"Do we let them return to the school?" Molly asked as she rubbed Arthur's shoulders, still leaning slightly on her husband.

"We can't block them," Tonks pointed out, "not without revealing how we know."

"Unless," Moody said, "we start doing random checks." He uncorked his flask and took a long pull, then said, "Easy enough to justify, after what just happened."

"But would we wish to?" Hermione asked, her mouth twisting in a grimace. "If they are at the school, we can keep an eye on them – perhaps gain additional information. It's not a pleasant thought, but – "

"'Ermione 'as a point," Fleur said haughtily. "If zey are under zurveillance at ze school, zey should not be able to cause much damage. And you shall 'ave ze advantage of knowing what zey are doing at all times. Eet ees ze best option." Bill rubbed her shoulder lightly with a vague smile.

"I concur," McGonagall said with a frown.

Silence reigned the room for several moments, then Ron's mum straightened and declared, "Well! Dinner time, I think," and she disappeared into the kitchen. Moments later, the food she had prepared earlier came floating into the room and settled in the middle of the dining table, and Ron quirked a smile. Slowly, everyone began to dig into the meal, and individual conversations started up again.

For once not rushing to the food, Ron sat silently and looked around the table. An image flashed across his mind – a young, black-haired woman, lying bloodied and unseeing on the ground. He swallowed, forcing the image away, and shook his head to clear it.

And with a sudden, swift certainty, he realized one of them was going to die before the school year was over.

 _Please,_ he thought, _if it has to be one of us, let it be me. Don't take any of them._

Harry, as if sensing his sudden melancholy, gave him a sharp look, and Ron grinned at his friend and reached for the mash like nothing was wrong.

Two more days until their return to school.

* * *

 _Granger Household_

 _London, England_

 _September 1_ _st_ _, 1996_

Hermione sat silently on her windowseat, knees tucked to her chest as she stared out at the ever-present rain. Her trunk was packed and waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Crookshanks, whom she had captured twenty minutes earlier, was yowling pitifully in his carrier. Her parents sat in the kitchen, waiting nervously for the arrival of Snape, Lupin, and Tonks.

They'd done fairly well that morning, she reflected. They had only begged her to transfer to an American or Australian school twice. She'd rather expected worse.

But Hermione had put her foot down, and informed her parents that she wasn't going to let any jumped-up Hitler copycat force her out of her own country, her own life, and they had gone quiet and let it go.

If they noticed her shelves and closets were a bit more barren than they would usually be before her yearly departure, if they noticed the note left on their bed, they made no comment.

A soft rustling sound near her door drew her eyes, and she looked over to see Daniel Granger standing in the doorway. "All set to go, Pumpkin?" he asked softly, and she smiled.

Shuffling his feet nervously, the man hovered in the doorway a moment before walking in to sit on the edge of her bed. He looked at his daughter as if he were trying to memorize her face, his eyes suspiciously bright.

"Hermione," he said haltingly, "I know your – your professor explained to us that this... that what's wrong with you is rather bad." Hermione said nothing. "But I want you to know your mother and I, we won't give up on you. We won't leave you. And you're a fighter, you always have been. We _know_ you'll beat this thing." Tears in his eyes, Daniel Granger looked into the eyes of his only child. "I just need to hear you say that _you_ know you will."

Hermione flinched. "Daddy," she whispered, "I – "

"I saw the note," he interrupted. "And I understand why you want to protect us. I'm telling you now, you do _not_ have our permission to meddle with our memories and send us away. You are _not_ the parent here, and you have no right to take away our memories of you." She flinched again, and still she was silent. "If we have to live in that ridiculous headquarters of yours, so be it!" he added forcefully. "But I refuse to forget you."

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself and stared out the window. "It's safer that way."

Daniel Granger shook his head, crossing the room to kneel next to his daughter. With a sad smile, he took her chilled hands in his. "It's _pointless_ that way," he replied, and Hermione choked back a sob.

Releasing her hands, he stood and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Someday," he said softly as he stood, "I imagine you'll understand." Turning, he left the room, nodding to the entering Professor Snape as he left.

The dour professor froze in the doorway, taking in his student's tear-streaked face. She turned and looked at him challengingly, and he bit back a curse. "It's not too late to change your mind," he said instead.

Hermione shook her head.

"Very well," said the professor, and turning on his heel, he stalked into the kitchen.

Dan and Emma Granger looked up at him from their kitchen table, sad smiles on their faces. "She's doing worse today," Emma told him softly, and Snape grimaced.

"There have been many studies proving a connection between physical and mental well-being," he replied, his hand clenched around his wand in his pocket. "Unfortunately, as she tires, her depression will likely worsen. There are potions to combat it, and there is the old-fashioned remedy of company, but only so much can be done."

Emma Granger closed her eyes, tears prickling at the corners. "Promise me," she whispered, as her husband grasped her hand. "Promise you'll look after her."

Severus Snape looked at the muggle woman and said softly, "I promise." He drew his wand, trained on the woman and her husband.

* * *

Hermione crept carefully down the hallway, careful to avoid the creaky steps. She paused outside the kitchen door and listened with bated breath.

"-promise," Professor Snape said quietly. A pause, and then –

" _Obliviate,_ " he intoned, and Hermione sagged against the wall, tears of loss, tears of relief, streaming down her face. Moments later, the professor came through the kitchen doors, looking unsurprised to see her there.

"Get everything," he said tersely, sliding a vial holding a clump of light brown hair into his pocket. "Lupin and Tonks will be here any minute now."

She nodded and moved silently to the front hallway, where her trunk and Crookshanks waited, and within the space of ten minutes, all magic had vanished from the house.

Hermione Granger walked out the door of her childhood home, never to return.

* * *

A/N: Review if you have something to say.

~*~SeraphinArgento


	2. Chapter 1: It is Not the Critic

**A/N:** And so, the main story begins. This will be long and complicated, and most of the characters are going to become very complex individuals. Every chapter will have several different character viewpoints. There will be a main focus for each chapter though, around whom the events are largely arrayed.

I've gotten far enough that I've decided to split each year into a separate story. The weeks will pass quickly until Halloween arrives, and at that point, the passage of time will slow down somewhat. Please review with your thoughts/critiques, as I am doing this largely to try to improve my own abilities.

And now, onward.

~*~SeraphinArgento

 **The Paths We Tread**

Chapter One:

It is Not the Critic

 _The Great Hall_

 _Hogwarts_

 _September 1, 1996_

Everything looked – _small_.

Harry Potter stepped into the Great Hall with a scowl, sighing as the majority of the students turned to stare at him unabashedly. _Welcome back_ , he thought to himself, for once _not_ happy to be back in the once-hallowed halls.

The summer had been one of the worst – and best – of his young life. The pain and guilt of losing Sirius – _my fault_ , echoed through his mind – had almost overtaken him completely. For weeks he had wallowed in grief and self-pity, mourning what was, truthfully, the only adult to show consistent concern for him, and one of the last remaining links to his father. He had visited Ron and Hermione in the hospital wing only once, he was ashamed to admit, and Hermione had been there for many days. Much of the remainder of the previous school year was a blur to him, past the conversation in Dumbledore's office about the –

He shook his head, stopping the thought in its tracks.

 _And yet_ , he thought as Luna broke off from the group to go to Ravenclaw's table, squeezing his hand as she left. The others sat together at the Gryffindor table, Ron and Hermione immediately flanking him and Neville and Ginny taking the seats across, effectively forming a ring around Harry. He sighed again at this evidence of their protectiveness, which, though touching, could prove extremely – problematic.

 _Stop wallowing!_ Taking a deep breath, he tuned out the chatter around him, carefully reinforcing his shields as he forcibly shoved the negative thoughts aside. The summer had definitely proven fruitful; he wasn't quite sure how it had happened, but Dumbledore had gone from keeping him completely in the dark, to setting up almost regimental training for the six of them, practically overnight. Each teen had been paired with specific trainers, to act as mentors and guides, and be directly responsible for the development of their skills. Unsurprisingly, Harry's first mandated focus? Occlumency. Thank Merlin Dumbledore had had enough sense to _not_ stick him with Snape.

A sharp jab to his side drew him from his thoughts, and he glanced up to see McGonagall whisk the stool and Sorting Hat away from the front. Dumbledore rose slowly as the chatter died down, and Harry watched in silence.

"Welcome back to another year at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, his soft voice somehow echoing through the cavernous hall. "As always, there are introductions to be made. Please join me in welcoming our joint DADA professors, on loan from the Aurory. Professors Shacklebolt and Tonks."

Harry grinned as the two Order members stood, Shacklebolt nodding solemnly and Tonks giving a merry wave. The rest of the start-of-term notices were fairly standard; stay out of the Forbidden Forest ( _unless you have detention there_ , he thought wryly), Filch had banned one hundred more Wheezes, no dueling in the corridors, etc, etc. He zoned out once more, having heard all those rules plenty of times in the past, when yet again, a sharp elbow in the side startled him. He turned his head and glared once at Hermione, who rolled her eyes and gestured to the front.

"I have no wish to alarm you," Dumbledore was saying solemnly, "but you must exercise caution. Whether you believe the _offical story_ – "

It almost sounded like Dumbledore had _snarled_ , and Harry and Ron exchanged startled looks.

" – or not, the fact is that these are dangerous times. Hogwarts trips will not be canceled at this time, and nor shall Quidditch be, but please go nowhere alone. Accept nothing from strangers, be it food, drink, or an object, and tell a professor _immediately_ if you witness anything that gives you cause for concern."

Silence echoed through the Hall, and Harry glanced over at the Slytherin table to see Malfoy, his back deliberately turned to Dumbledore, whispering frantically with Parkinson and another boy at the table. He sighed again, shaking his head. Some things would never change.

"And now," he said, his voice cheery again, "let us eat!" He clapped his hands, and the tables were suddenly groaning under the weight of mass quantities of food.

Harry simply sat there, staring at the food, and tried to convince himself he was hungry.

* * *

 _The Black Lake_

 _Hogwarts_

 _September 6, 1996_

 _Only September_ , Ginny thought darkly, _and it's ALREADY chilly in the morning._

She sat by the edge of the Black Lake, her face hidden in the folds of a too-large cloak. Her hair whipped in a cool wind as she stared blankly at the surface of the lake, her mind whirling.

"You're not supposed to be out here alone," a quiet voice cut into her thoughts, and Ginny turned with a start. Neville looked down at her challengingly, arms folded across the front of his tracksuit, and Ginny laughed.

"Neither are you," she pointed out with a grin, and Neville shook his head and sat beside her on the dried-up log.

"I'm not marked for kidnap and torture," he replied somewhat harshly, and Ginny rolled her eyes and huffed.

"We all are, Neville," she whispered back. "We all are." Swallowing convulsively, she pushed back the sounds in her mind – the once frequent echoes of Tom Riddle's voice were near-constant nowadays. It flared up inside her, the vicious self-loathing over her weakness, over allowing herself to be thrown off by something as simple as a _memory_.

"I suppose," he replied quietly, and for a time, they were silent. After several minutes had passed, he bumped her shoulder and smiled. "Since you're out here, want to spar?"

Ginny sat quietly, contemplating whether she felt like moving just yet. It was still extremely early, yet there was quite a bit of frustration for her to work off, all things considered.

It was Saturday. The day that Harry would lead a group from the Order into the Chamber, to do a safety sweep before they began training in that forsaken place.

She wanted to _hit_ something.

With a vicious grin, she jumped to her feet, and Neville sent her a hard smile back.

It was two hours before they went back inside, both of them drenched, dirty, and limping.

* * *

 _Chamber of Secrets_

 _Hogwarts_

 _September 6, 1996_

"Wands out," Moody snarled, and Harry bit back a laugh as the grizzly old Auror stomped forward, his peg-leg thumping on the cavern floor. Harry stood at the mouth of the filthy pipe – which Dumbledore had, with a wave of his wand, turned into a moving spiral staircase, much like the gargoyle. Bill's lips quirked as he watched the teen glare silently. No doubt he wished _he_ had thought of that, all those years before.

At that thought, a chuckle did escape from under his breath, and Lupin shot him a questioning look as he stepped even further in front of the teen. The lycanthrope threw his arm out in front of Harry, halting his progress.

Again, Bill could almost hear Harry's thoughts; _honestly,_ his mental estimation of Harry scoffed, _as if I've never dealt with an angry snake before_.

It was somewhat interesting to be down in the Chamber, with the threat of imminent death _not_ looming overhead. Bill had spotted wall sconces in the din and lit each of them aflame, so the Chamber was bathed in firelight. Up ahead was the monkey-like statue of Slytherin, mouth firmly shut as if a hungry basilisk had never slithered out. Beyond the statue was the huge, open expanse where he imagined Ginny had once lay, the life leeching out of her.

Bill let out a shaky breath.

Ahead, Kingsley lit off a flare from his wand, eyes narrowing as he watched its progress. "This goes on for miles, looks like," he said. "Probably beneath the majority of the castle."

Bill shot him a sharp look. "Think it has an outside entrance?" he asked, and Shacklebolt didn't respond, instead counting under his breath. Harry and Lupin moved forward, eyes fixed on the light of the flare.

"It hasn't hit anything yet," Harry pointed out. "I'd wager that's a yes."

"Let's check it out," Kingsley murmured to Moody, and the grizzled Auror scowled.

"Watch out for _snakes_ ," he spat as he stomped forward. "I've got enough problems, I don't need to turn to stone."

Kingsley's lips quirked as the two began heading down the Chamber's length. "Cheer up, Mad-Eye," Harry heard him say. "If you turn to stone, it'll be the closest you've ever come to a _real_ vacation."

The old Auror snorted.

Remus' lips quirked as the bickering aurors' voiced moved away down the corridor, but Bill was done laughing. He strode along the passageway, his eyes roving over every dip and crag in the walls. Coming to a sudden halt, the cursebreaker stared at a patch of stone, his back ramrod straight. The steady drip of busted pipes echoed in the cavern as everyone watched him.

"This," Bill whispered hoarsely, and Remus and Dumbledore exchanged sorrowful looks as Harry stepped forward. "Is this where – ?"

Harry flinched, his breath condensing in the chill air before them. "She fought, Bill." Looking down at the blood and ink stains, his voice rang with quiet pride pride. "She fought for control of her mind, of her soul, harder than I've ever seen anyone fight before."

Bill grinned wryly, images of his spitfire little sister flashing through his mind. He'd always been her favorite, just as Charlie was Ron's, so he was, naturally, the one she had confided in. He had heard Ginny's entire side of the ordeal, every moment each day that she had struggled. But Ginny had only a vague idea of what had happened before she woke in the chamber.

Ginny knew that Harry and Ron had come after her. She knew that they had been separated. She knew that Harry fought. And she knew Harry won.

But _Bill_ knew that the blood on the ground wasn't hers; she'd been very clear on her lack of physical injuries. The one thing nobody had told him was what happened to _Harry,_ he thought angrily.

He eyed the raven-haired young wizard with no small amount of curiosity. What had the boy gone through?

"Here," Dumbledore said sharply, and Bill jumped, spinning around to peer in the direction the elderly wizard pointed. Dumbledore had moved closer to the Slytherin statue, his usually twinkling eyes hard and flat. "Harry?" he asked, gesturing to the teen, and Harry exchanged a quick glance with Lupin before stepping forward.

"How did Riddle open it?" Dumbledore asked, and Harry took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and let out a long, low hiss. Bill bit back a curse as the ground began to shake.

Torches flickered on the walls as dust rained down on them, and Lupin strode forward, shoving Harry back behind him protectively as the other two men held their wands steady on the statue. The mouth was moving with a screeching, grinding sound, hinging open beneath the likeness of Slytherin's stringy beard.

The rumbling stopped when the statue's mouth touched the floor, and Harry jerked free of Lupin's hold once more. Bill shot him a side-ways glance as he stopped next to him. Harry's face was blank, his eyes flat. The teen shoved his hands in his pockets and slowly shook his head.

 _Stop hovering over me,_ Bill translated silently, and he turned away from the younger wizard and walked up into the opened cavern. The rotted remains of small creatures and shed snake skins littered the ground, giving the air a sickly smell. Lupin hastily cast a Bubblehead Charm around the others, but Bill stepped free of its range and moved further into the dank.

"Damn," Kingsley cursed behind them as he and Moody rejoined the group. He wrinkled his nose against the smell as his eyes scanned their surroundings.

They stood in a long stone room with craggy, uneven walls. The ceiling dipped and rose in more than one spot, sharp protrusions of rock sticking out. Bill fired off a flare and watched as again, the light kept going – and going – and going...

"Looks like it goes all the way to the entrance," Moody said gruffly, and Dumbledore sent him a sharp glance.

"It does open into the forest, then?" the Headmaster asked worriedly, and Moody nodded.

"So anyone could have walked in here," Lupin muttered angrily. "At any time."

"Doubtful," Kingsley said quietly. "We couldn't get the door to open, so it likely requires Parseltongue just like everything else in here."

"But Voldemort could walk in," Harry pointed out, and the four men went silent. "I'll need to go down there and change whatever password is used," he said with a shrug.

"How will you _know_ the password, boy?" Moody asked harshly, and Harry shot him a strange look.

"I'll know," was his only reply.

Bill shook his head silently, turning his attention back to their surroundings. The cavern branched off in two different directions up ahead, with what looked like a small sitting area down beyond the break. He moved forward carefully, his wand tracing patterns in the air as he watched the ground beneath his feet. The others watched curiously as he raised his hands, palms forward, and began to whisper under his breath. _"takshif 'asarurk,"_ he muttered. "' _azhar nafsak._ "

A shimmering webbing appeared on the ground up ahead, green traces shooting through the rock like veins, and he halted where he stood. " _tansha,"_ he breathed. A sharp crack rent the air, and the green shimmer exploded outward –

"Shield!" Moody bellowed, but Dumbledore had already moved, and a transparent golden dome appeared around them all. Bill, too far ahead of the others, was hit by the backlash, dozens of cuts lashed across his skin. The red-headed man didn't even flinch, his ponytail swaying as a gust of wind flared up from the ground around him. It formed into a small twister, shimmering green threads flowing in an angry swarm reminiscent of a disturbed hornet's nest.

 _This is nothing compared to Dahshur_ , he thought calmly, eyeing the twister that surrounded him. Bowing his head, he brought his palms together in a resonating clap, and finally cried aloud the words of his incantation.

" _Nathar!"_ he shouted, and with one final crack, the twister disappeared. Bill watched dispassionately as small bones and skins rained down on him, shaking his hair out with a frown.

Spinning on the heel of his dragon-hide boots, he grinned at Harry, whose jaw looked like it was going to hit the ground.

"My job looks a little more exciting than you thought, hmm?" he asked with a sharp grin, and the teen stared.

"That's _normal_ for you?" he asked, and Bill raised an eyebrow as the others chuckled.

Waving his hand at their surroundings, Bill shot back, "Rescuing damsels from a giant snake is _normal_ for you?"

Harry shook his head with a wry smile. "Point," he murmured, and his eyes danced. "I'm telling Ginny you called her a damsel." The danger gone, he managed to shrug off Lupin and moved further down, looking around him with narrowed eyes.

The sitting area was a small, circular space, an ornately carved desk leaned against one wall and an array of armchairs behind it. There was a slight scent of rot in the air, but the furniture certainly didn't look a thousand years old. Truthfully, Bill reflected, the style of the chairs was no more than two or three hundred years old. One chaise sat before the armchairs, its fabric torn and matted in several places. An old-world style tome lay on the cushions, its pages yellowed and fragile.

"My word," Lupin breathed, his eyes scanning the walls to the right of the desk. A good half-dozen bookcases stood there, overflowing with the fragile old texts. It was Bill who stepped forward, casting a quick reveal charm to check for curses or traps, and carefully picked up one of the books. He flipped through the pages, then grabbed another.

"Blank," he said with annoyance after the seventh tome.

Harry was standing silently beside Dumbledore, his gaze dark and anxious. Glancing at Dumbledore, he let out a tired breath as the elderly headmaster nodded. Harry held out his hand towards Bill, and the cursebreaker hesitated a moment before handing Harry one of the tomes.

The teen closed the cover carefully, looked down at the book, and _hissed_. Opening the cover once more, he held the book out in front of him for the other men to see.

Slowly, writing began to appear in the books, ink welling like blood coming out of the pages. After several moments, the flow stopped, and the ink, still glistening in the dim wandlight, began to rearrange itself on the page.

Bill let out a low whistle as Moody cussed under his breath.

None of the men said anything as they stared down at a clear, though roughly drawn, map.

And Dumbledore smiled, the hardened smile of a hungry predator.

* * *

 _DADA Office_

 _Hogwarts_

 _September 7_ _th_ _, 1996_

Tonks sat on the edge of her desk, legs crossed and one foot dangling and swinging in the air, and glared at Shacklebolt as Hermione grinned.

"What do you mean, a liability?" she asked angrily, and Hermione chuckled as Kingsley cringed.

"It's just – there were –" the large man stuttered, waving his hands around himself for emphasis. "There were a lot of loose rocks and dead things and – things on the ground, Tonks! You know you have trouble with... walking," he attempted to explain to his apprentice, and the younger woman scowled, her hair turning a tomato red as her brow wrinkled.

"I have trouble with _walking_?" she repeated, and Kingsley cringed, shrinking back with his hands thrown up in a gesture of surrender.

"I just – " the tall man started, and Hermione shook her head. Reaching out, she grabbed the back of her mentor's robes and pulled him into a chair.

"What Kingsley _means_ to say," she grinned at Tonks, "is he's sorry and he won't leave his partner behind again. Right?" she challenged, turning to Kingsley and arching a brow, her hands on her hips.

The large black man winced, then grinned. "Right," he conceded, and Tonks laughed as she watched her trainer-turned-partner be quickly and easily forced into submission by a seventeen year old witch.

"Moving on," Hermione said briskly, taking a seat herself, "the text only became visible when Harry spoke parseltongue?"

Shacklebolt nodded, his brow furrowed. "He checked at least two dozen books, and they were all the same. That first one, though, it was – Dumbledore was floored," he said quietly. "Maps, coordinates, directions; he and Bill are working on it. The first page though, it was a drawing of Slytherin's lost fortress. If that's real..."

He trailed off in silence, and the two young women shot each other concerned glances. Legends of Slytherin's doings after he left Hogwarts were many and varied, and there was no way to know which, if any, of the tales were true. The only thing that seemed to be obvious was that people had been hurt, and any stronghold of Slytherin's falling into Voldemort's possession was definitely not a positive.

"The books were still there," Tonks pointed out. "Riddle must not have realized what he had, or surely he would have taken them with him."

Hermione shook her head, frowning. "He must have known by the time he found the Chamber that Parseltongue isn't exactly common," she countered. "Likely, he thought the books would be safest there, where only he could get to them."

"No offense," Shacklebolt said with a solemn look, "but I would prefer for Dora to be right."

Hermione nodded absently, her right hand tracing absently on the arm of her chair. "Either way," she said quietly, "we've gotten lucky. If Harry can copy over all the books –"

" – which Lupin was helping him do," Kingsley interjected.

" – maybe we can find where Voldemort's hiding," Tonks finished, her arms folding across her chest.

Hermione sighed tiredly. "And _then_ what?" she asked.

The two aurors looked at each other and frowned.

And then what, indeed.

Several hours later, after Hermione and Kingsley had both departed, Hermione to Gryffindor Tower, and Kings to do a patrol of the school, Tonks sat on the battlements of the Astronomy tower and stared down across the grounds. The sun had long since set while she watched, but still she was silent, her gaze sweeping back and forth across the expanse of hills and forest and lake. The moon was in its third quarter, and a soft light shone down upon her as she kept her vigil.

Soft footfalls sounded behind her and she didn't turn, waiting quietly as Remus stepped up beside her. For long moments, they were both silent, and finally Remus spoke.

"He's getting good," Lupin offered quietly, gesturing to the figures by the lake.

Tonks gave a lopsided smile as she watched the flashes of spellfire in the air. Ron had been down there for hours, having already been practicing at the lake when she arrived at the tower. The youngest Weasley son had taken to duelling spells like a bird to the sky, the moment he had been cleared by Pomfrey. Moody and his father had had to force him to quit practicing and get some rest, that first week after he'd been cleared, and it had resulted in a spectacular row.

As the pair watched, the lights died down, and the darkness enveloped Ron and his mentor. Shaking his head, Lupin watched the darkness sadly, his head tilting back and staring up at the moon.

"We failed them," he said brokenly. "How could we leave teenagers to fight a war?" he asked the night sky.

"We haven't," Tonks replied sharply. "We're here. We're teaching them to protect themselves, to protect others, like they would have to do regardless. What would you rather we do?"

The lycanthrope sighed, running one hand shakily through his graying hair. "I'd rather this had ended," he murmured, "before they were born, as it should have."

Tonks was silent. She had been too young to remember the day he was speaking about, but her father had told her the story. Not long after the Marauders had left Hogwarts – having joined the Order immediately on their graduation day – while James Potter and Sirius were training as Aurors, they had been caught up in a raid that Voldemort himself participated in. The self-styled Dark Lord had leveled his wand at Sirius, a curse on his lips, and James had fired – and _connected_ – a killing curse at Voldemort.

The spell had exploded the shopfront where Voldemort stood, and when the debris had cleared, Voldemort stood, smoking furling from the hole in the chest of his robes, and _laughed._

James Potter, at nineteen, had almost ended the war then and there.

No one knew, to this day, how Voldemort had survived. The spell wasn't lacking intention; if it had blown up the building, it should have blown up the no-longer-quite-a-man. _Something_ had stopped it, had protected the overlord.

Whatever it was, Tonks reflected darkly, likely still protected him now. And until they found – and destroyed – whatever was sparing Voldemort from death's gaze, James Potter's son would be unable to finish what his ancestors had started.

"Everyone wishes that, Wolfy," Tonks said softly. "But at least we're not leaving them to struggle on their own."

Remus only shook his head, his eyes shadowed and solemn. "Maybe we're not _now_ ," he replied, and Tonks winced but nodded. She had only met the others the year before, but Remus, she knew, struggled with the weight of guilt. The guilt of having left Harry to the Dursleys _tender mercies._

Not for the first time, she thought with vicious thrill of all the terrible things she could do to those disgusting people. And as every time before, she pushed the thoughts away and smiled easily, turning to the man beside her. "What do you say about a moonlight dance?" she asked flirtatiously, and Lupin jumped.

"What?" he asked shakily, his eyes startled, and he shoved his hands in the pockets of his frayed jacket, backing away a step. "What are you – "

Rather than finish his sentence, he backed away instead, eyes watching her like a skittish dog, and he fled back down the tower stairs.

Tonks watched him go with a sad smile, shaking her head and sighing. Turning back around, she slid down form the battlements edge – silently reflecting that it was too bad no one else had seen her rare, coordinated move – and made her way down to her quarters.

 _Keep running, Wolfy_ , she thought to herself. _I'll catch you eventually_.

* * *

 _History of Magic Classroom_

 _Hogwarts_

 _September 10_ _th_ _, 1996_

" – the arrival of Herpo the Foul in ancient Athens was foretold by the ancient Oracles of Delphi, and it caused the worst – "

Luna sighed listlessly as Binns droned on, her head pillowed on her arms at her desk. Like every History of Magic class she had ever taken, Binns read word-perfect from the text, his voice a painful monotone. Even Luna, with her incredible, tunnel-like focus, was unable to concentrate on the professor's words for more than a few moments. She was fairly certain she had read the textual information on Herpo, but she would reread the passages to be sure. It was her OWLs year, after all. Despite everything else that was happening around them, she wanted to perform well enough to make her mother proud.

The blonde witch smiled sadly, her hand clenching around the bottlecap necklace she always wore. It had been six years since her mother had passed, and it still hurt.

She let out another sad smile and forced her head up from the desk, straightening up in her chair and pulling out a small notebook. Michael Corner, at the desk across from hers shot her a questioning look, and she just smiled sweetly, spinning her DA coin in circles on the desk. Corner's eyes narrowed and he nodded sharply, and Luna turned her attention back to her notebook. The first DA meeting of the year had been scheduled for that evening, and she had worked closely with Remus to come up with suggestions for their practice that night.

Harry, still struggling to transcribe the books that only he could open, was more than happy to step back and let his friends run the first few meetings. The blaxck-haired wizard had been absent from History of Magic and Care of Magical Creatures all week, those being the two classes he could skip without issue (seeing as Binns would never notice and Hagrid had, at Dumbledore's request, invented an excuse), trying to get through the entire secret chamber's contents.

Luna and Hermione were both overflowing with impatience, desperate to get at the ancient tomes. Ginny, on the other hand, was in no true hurry, and sadly, Luna wondered how much of her possession she _truly_ remembered. Thoughts of their first year flooded her mind as Luna flipped through the notebook filled with spell diagrams and study topics.

"Turn in a minimum of twelve inches," Binns droned a while later, and the bell rang shrilly. Jumping to her feet, Luna shoved her things into her bag and headed quickly for the door. Corner shot after her, and followed her quick steps down the hall.

"Hey, Luna," he asked, catching up with her to walk side-by-side, "what are we doing at the meeting tonight?"

Luna smiled at him dreamily, watching him out of the corner of her eye. His colors had shifted after he and Ginny had broken up, she reflected, and he looked much more certain of himself these days. Cho, she supposed, wasn't quite as intimidating as Ginny.

"You'll see," she singsonged. "Be there at half-past seven." With that, she ducked into a side-corridor and made her way to the third floor.

The part-fay swept along several staircases and hallways before coming to a halt in front of the gargoyle. It was her turn to make sure Harry ate that evening, and she doubted he had left his spot in front of those books in hours. This was the day he had Care of Magical Creatures for his only afternoon session, after all, so odds were that he had been sequestered in Dumbledore's office since lunchtime.

Smiling at the gargoyle, Luna said politely, "Hello! Wheezes," and the gargoyle moved aside.

She rode the spiral staircase up into a large, circular space, and frowned thoughtfully as she walked into the room. Dumbledore was absent, as he frequently had been since the end of May, but Harry sat with his back leaned against a long couch by the fire, books spread all around him on the floor. His brow was furrowed and he was muttering under his breath, jabbing his wand at the page of one book while he traced his left hand across the pages of another.

Luna stood and watched silently as words slowly began to form in the blank book laying to his right, and a slight smile appeared on Harry's face as his colors settled somewhat from their frantic swirling. As he closed the cover of the book in his left hand, she stepped over the back of the couch and sat to the left of his head, folding her legs underneath herself.

Harry simply tipped his head back and looked at her without a word.

Their friendship was new and shaky, having developed mostly after they had spoken of death and heaven in the corridor, right before school's end. A connection forged, Luna had been the one he reached out to for understanding, the one to whom he vented his pain and guilt over Sirius, over Cedric – all of it, really. They were beginning to develop an understanding, one made stronger by the close working relationship the entire group had formed over the summer.

Dumbledore had insisted Harry stay at the Dursleys for a minimum of three weeks, then finally agreed to relocate the teen. The issue of where to send Harry had been highly contested, however. No one wanted Harry to be isolated, but neither Dumbeldore nor Lupin had felt being crowded – which was unavoidable in the Weasley household – would be good for him. Feeling Grimmauld Place wouldn't be a healthy spot for the teen to spend his summer either, considering Sirius's loss was still so recent, he had instead turned to the oldest Weasley son.

Bill had, without second thought, opened his cottage in Cornwall to the young wizard, and from that point on, their group training had been conducted on the beach. Ginny, Ron, Hermione and Neville had all returned home at the end of every day, but Luna had stayed with Harry for that last month, her father having elected to go to Sweden for his expedition solo. And so Luna and Harry had spent many an evening sitting with their toes in the sand, watching the waves and just talking. Weeks of this had broken down some of the Potter scion's walls, though he would, she suspected, always hold himself back from others... always fear getting truly close.

"You need to eat something," she said finally, and Harry shrugged simply, looking away.

"I'm almost done with this," he replied, waving his hand at the books scattered across the office. "If I could just – "

"No." She shook her head. "You hardly ate at lunch, and you're needed at the DA meeting tonight," she insisted. "You need to eat."

The raven-haired wizard sighed, his green eyes snapping with annoyance, but he nodded sharply. With a wave of his hand, he cleared away the books, his place marked by a single ribbon and all the other books stacked neatly on the side table.

Luna simply raised her eyebrows, and Harry grinned.

"You're getting good at that," she said quietly, and Harry held a single finger to his lips and winked.

"Let's go, then," he sighed, gesturing her to walk ahead of him.

Luna moved toward the door, glancing over her shoulder as they went. Fawkes was sitting on his perch by the headmaster's desk, his newly-regrown plumage fluffed and his tail swaying in an invisible breeze. Her eyes locked on the phoenix's gaze and he let out a soft, warbling cry.

Luna nodded sharply at the bird, her eyes clouding over for a moment. _Yes_ , she thought towards the red-and-gold bird, _I feel it, too_.

Harry Potter was terrified. Something in those books had shaken him.

And Luna Lovegood would not rest until she figured out what.

* * *

 _Room of Requirement_

 _Hogwarts_

 _September 10_ _th_ _, 1996_

Neville looked around the room with pride, arms crossed as he leaned back against the wall. Before them, their classmates – and students, really – were arrayed, lined up with almost military precision firing at training dummies. Shacklebolt and Hermione stood beside him, watching as the students fired spell after spell, at least half of them connecting accurately.

"They've truly improved," Hermione said approvingly, nodding to herself. "They must have all practiced over the summer."

Tonks grinned from her perch on the arm of a squishy armchair where Ron sat, watching the form and posture of the students carefully. "Not too shabby," the pink-haired Auror declared. "You kids may be on to something here."

Shacklebolt and Harry scowled almost in unison. "They're not going to be actively fighting," Harry insisted, and Luna shot him a worried glance from her seat on the floor by the fireplace. "We're just aiming to get them prepared to help defend the castle if needed. That's all."

Ginny scoffed, her eyes narrowed at the green-eyed wizard. She crossed her ankles in front of her as she leaned back, her hair almost teasing the flames behind her. "That's not up to you, Potter," she said sharply. "If we've told you once, we've told you a thousand times. This isn't just your war."

Harry was silent. Neville and Luna exchanged another worried glance as Harry stepped forward, a muscle in his jaw twitching. He stood surveying the students for a moment, then called, "Freeze!"

Almost as one, all of the students stopped mid-motion, turning their heads to look at their de facto leader.

Kingsley Shacklebolt smiled with pride.

"DA," Harry instructed, "pair off. Groups of three. We will be attacking," he explained, gesturing to the others arrayed behind him, "you will be defending each other. Choose one from each group to protect. That individual is not allowed to cast any spells, or help in any way."

The students exchanged questioning glances, then began moving to split off into groups as instructed. Neville watched as Cho Chang joined Michael Corner and Padma Patil, Cho stepping quickly to the back of their triangle.

Several minutes of scurrying later, the students all stood silently, their groups waiting, and with a thought, Neville cut the lights to the room. Gasps and muttering from the students sounded through the dark, and they all shuffled around nervously as their instructors attacked.

He and Hermione went right, circling around behind the students. He watched as the brunette girl raised her wand and fired silently on Chang, taking her down instantly before Patil and Corner had even noticed their charge was in danger. Ropes flew from Neville's wand and wrapped around Corner and a freezing charm fell Patil a moment later. They were out, with absolutely no challenge. Hermione and Neville looked at each other, frowns marring both their faces, then quickly retrieved the wands of their downed opponents.

They moved back to their positions by the far wall as shouts and curses echoed through the room. Less than five minutes passed, and the lights came back up.

Only one group was still standing. Dean Thomas and Parvati Patil stood almost back-to-back, Lavender Brown behind and between them near a wall, and Dean's wand trained on Ron as Ginny smiled approvingly at her boyfriend. A quick appraising glance at Ron and Ginny showed that none of the defending group's spells had hit, but they were still standing.

"Cease!" Harry called, and everyone froze. Hermione quickly revived Chang, Corner, and Padma, and Neville watched disappasionately as Cho Chang glared at Hermione angrily.

"Somebody tell us what you did wrong," Ron asked, moving back to his armchair. With a thought from Neville, who was controlling the room for the evening, large, squashy pillows appeared around the room. Hermione shot Neville a grateful look and sat quickly, letting out a happy sigh.

She was tiring quickly these days, Neville thought with a worried frown, but he shook it off after a moment. She likely wasn't sleeping well; none of them were.

Corner scowled at Ron, shaking his head. "You lot cheated," he said angrily. "It was dark, we couldn't see."

"Right," Ginny told her ex-boyfriend cuttingly as the others scoffed, and even Cho Chang gave the boy a disbelieving look. "Because Death Eaters only attack in broad daylight."

Silence echoed through the room for a moment before, shockingly, Lavender Brown spoke up.

"Well," the girl said quietly, twirling her curly light brown hair around one finger, "we could have cast light charms. Dean and Parvati cast a shield first-thing; that's probably why we lasted so long. And they _worked together_."

" _Thank_ you," Hermione said instantly, sending her dormmate a rare smile. "Light charms would have been a good idea, certainly," she agreed, "I don't know why none of you cast one, actually. But being instantly prepared, and working together, is important. Casting a shield charm right off should be your first move. Where did you go wrong?"

Nobody spoke. As the students cast each other confused glances, Dean shrugged.

"I'll tell you," Ron gestured with his hands. "You both cast a shield."

Dean and Parvati looked at each other questioningly, and Ron continued, "Shield charms take an effort to hold. After a while, you wouldn't have been able to keep it up. Meanwhile, we're firing on you, and eventually your shield will collapse. Then what?" he asked, and Parvati nodded.

"So one of us should have shielded and another should have been on the offensive," she said quietly, and Ron grinned at her.

"Exactly," he said, and she smiled back.

"I hope you like your partners," Neville interjected, "because they will be your partners for the rest of your Hogwarts career. If the school is attacked, you will work together to defend each other and the rest of the student body. One of you will focus on shielding, the other two on attacks. With the lights _on_ this time," Several students laughed, and Neville grinned wryly and continued, "we will be doing that exercise again. This time, you'll all be allowed to cast, but one of you must be the defense and the other two on offense. Decide with your group who will be best suited for what."

The room descended into chatter again, and Ron and Harry exchanged grim looks. Neville understood.

None of their fellow students, he thought sadly, really understood what they were getting themselves into.

* * *

 _Gryffindor 6_ _th_ _Year Boys Dorms_

 _Hogwarts_

 _September 12_ _th_ _, 1996_

" _Scream all you want," he said with a twisted grin, blood dripping from the split in his lip. The blonde-haired woman stared at him with wide eyes, chest heaving as she struggled for breath. "You have a beautiful voice," he continued conversationally, "I could listen to it all night."_

 _With a steady hand, he reached out and traced his wand across her stomach, shallow cuts appearing under his wand's tip, and the woman cried out in pain._

" _Ah, Dori," he breathed, leaning towards the woman –_

Ron's head slammed off the edge of his nightstand as he started awake, and he cursed under his breath as stars formed in front of his eyes. With a low growl, he forced himself up off the floor and sat on the edge of his bed, feeling gingerly at the back of his head.

No blood, nothing damaged, but he was going to have one heck of a lump later on, he thought distractedly.

A woman's face flashed before his eyes, tears streaming down her face, and he flinched. He fumbled for his wand on the nightstand, letting out a sad sigh as he saw the time.

 _2:17_ , he thought. _So much for this night_.

Getting to his feet, he quickly changed out of his pjs and pulled on a pair of worn jeans and a simple long-sleeved shirt, and made his way for the stairs. Still muttering to himself, he crossed the common room to collapse on the large, squashy armchair that had become "his" partway through third year – as in literally, no one else sat there anymore – and pulled his abandoned charms book toward him. As much as he had always hated studying, truth was, he had realized finally, after what happened before the summer, that they would have to start taking things more seriously.

After all, how long could they keep surviving on _luck_? He shook his head and began to read, still muttering darkly now and then.

"Ron?" a soft voice said questioningly, and the youngest Weasley son shot to his feet, wand pointed at the –

– startled face of Lavender Brown, he realized. He shoved his hand into his hair and lowered his wand with another tired sigh, practically throwing himself back into his chair. "Sorry," he mumbled, the tips of his ears reddening as he turned back to his book.

Lavender hesitated at the foot of the stairs, watching him for a few moments before crossing the room to perch on the chair to his right. He ignored her a moment of two, hoping she'd just go away and leave him in peace, but finally, after an uncomfortable silence, he raised his eyes to hers and simply looked at her.

Still she hesitated, her hands twisting together in her lap, before she seemed to come to a decision. Shifting forward slightly in the chair, she bit her lip before asking, "Ron, are – are you alright?"

The redheaded wizard watched her silently for a time, considering. He didn't really want to answer her – she and Parvati were the biggest gossips in the school, after all – but at the same time, she reminded him of someone. He wasn't sure who –

She bit her lip again, and it came to him in a flash.

 _Big brown eyes welling with tears, mouth bloodied from shoving her own teeth through her lip to keep from screaming, hands chained to the bedposts as he grinned down at her._

Ron jerked back in horror as Marlene McKinnon's screams sounded in his mind, and he shot to his feet.

"I – I have to go," he choked out, and he turned on his heel, running for the portrait. He heard Lavender calling after him, heard the Fat Lady's surprised exclamation, and still he ran, not stopping until he hit the lake's edge.

Ron collapsed beside the choppy waters, his breath coming out in sharp, painful gasps as his eyes prickled. He huddled there, arms wrapped around his waist, and leaned all the way over until his forehead rested against the sand. Shivering in the chill night air, he wept bitterly as nightmare after nightmare flashed through his mind.

After a time, his tears slowed to a halt, and he finally moved, his legs stiff and his back sore from being hunched over. He crab-walked to the huge tree by the shore, leaning his back against the trunk. Eyes shadowed, he stared off into the distance.

"What's wrong, Weasley?" a voice came from behind him, and Ron closed his eyes in annoyance, gritting his teeth. "Did Mummy forget to send you your favorite sweater?"

 _Leave me the fuck alone_ , Ron through angrily, but he turned regardless, and studied the young woman who stepped out of the darkness.

The short, lithe blonde girl smiled at him bitterly, eyes dancing with malicious mirth. Slowly, the smile faded as she noticed his stained face, and she shot him a half-questioning, half-contemptuous look.

Tracey Davis, his mind supplied. Best friend of Daphne Greengrass, she stayed mostly out of the feud between the so-called Golden Trio and Malfoy's entourage. Not that she was a _nice_ person, he reflected – just not overly forward.

"What the hell do you want?" he asked angrily, when it became obvious she wasn't going to leave. Dimly, he thought that his mother would be horrified by his tone, but he didn't care. He was tired, he was cold, he was miserable, and here stood a perfect outlet for his ire. Just last week, she had laughed at his sister when she tripped on the stairs and split her knee open. She was no innocent bystander.

Davis shrugged, her sculpted eyebrows furrowing, and eyed him curiously. "I came out here for peace and quiet," she said after a moment, and Ron scoffed.

"Yeah, well, I was here first, so piss off," he scowled, and Davis grinned.

"So hostile," she murmured, lowering herself to the ground beside him, tucking her legs carefully under herself. She reached into the pocket of her robes and pulled out a small box, and to Ron's surprise, drew out a Muggle cigarette. She offered him one silently, shrugging when the red-headed wizard shook his head. Lighting the cigarette quickly, she took a slow drag, blowing the smoke out in the direction of the lake in a show of rare consideration.

"So what's eating you, Weasley?" she asked as Ron tried to ignore her. "Not like you've ever had an even temper," she continued, "but you seem well and truly _vexed_ at the moment."

Ron stared at her disbelievingly, shaking his head in amazement. "Sure," he said bitingly. "You're very concerned about me."

"No," she replied with a devious grin, "I'm nosy and bored," and despite himself, Ron laughed.

"See?" she said with another slow smile, and flicked her hair over her shoulder. "You just need to loosen up a bit."

Ron scoffed again. "Yeah. Right," he muttered.

"Really," she insisted, leaning forward slightly. "You're wound so tight you'll snap in no time. Life's too short to walk around with storm clouds over your head."

He eyed her suspiciously, brow furrowed. "Why aren't you taking the mickey?" he asked calmly, and she grinned again.

 _Like a bloody hyena, this one_ , he thought.

"No fun kicking you when you're down," she said simply, brushing her knees off as she stood. Turning away, she tossed her hair back again and smiled at him over her shoulder. "Get shagged or something," she advised. "Let off some steam."

"Oh and," she called, turning back to face him again. "Keep your sister and your pretty little Mudblood friend away from the feast on Halloween. If they go, you'll never see them again." With that, she turned again and disappeared into the night.

Ron stared.

* * *

 _Headmaster's Office_

 _Hogwarts_

 _September 12_ _th_ _, 1996_

He hated this room.

Harry sat silently, watching as the others fidgeted in their seats. He sat on a couch with Neville and Luna, with Hermione, Ron and Ginny across from him. Dumbledore sat in a squashy purple armchair by the fire, with Tonks, Remus, Kingsley, and Mrs. Weasley in armchairs nearby. Mr. Weasley, Bill and Charlie stood by the fire, their arms crossed. And over by the headmaster's desk, Professors Snape and McGonagall sat. Snape's face looked pinched, and he kept glaring at Shacklebolt. Idly, Harry wondered what that was about.

"The question here is," Bill said quietly, and Harry jerked his attention back to the room, "what do we do with this information."

Mrs. Weasley scoffed instantly, shooting her eldest son an irritated glare. "What's to question?" she said sharply. "The girls clearly cannot attend the feast. And that includes you, Luna dear," she added, smiling sadly at the girl, "in case they decide to go after you in absence of the other two."

Harry stiffened, his eyes shooting to Luna's face, but the blonde girl looked perfectly serene.

"Except," Shacklebolt pointed out, and Mrs. Weasley immediately frowned, "if this Slytherin girl is giving true information, she's taking a risk. It will be obvious someone in the Slytherin house revealed they had heard something, and she may be in danger."

"So?" Charlie asked cruelly, and Ginny stared at her brother. "I care about Ginny and Hermione, not some random kid."

Snape scowled, his arms crossing as he leaned more heavily on the headmaster's desk. "I understand that, as a Slytherin, she is worthless in your estimation, _Charles_ ," he hissed, "but – "

"But she's a child, a student, too," Tonks said sadly. "And really, does this 'information' really tell us anything?" She shrugged, frowning as she looked around the room. "We already suspected that someone was going to try to kidnap the girls on Halloween, having it narrowed down to _maybe_ the Great Hall doesn't change much. They wouldn't be alone in the Great Hall; if that's the Death Eaters' plan, it's a poor one."

Mr. Weasley straightened up at the wall, his brow furrowed in thought. "You think it's a ruse?"

"An attempt to get the girls off by themselves, away from crowds?" Tonks replied. "Yes. Whether this Davis chick is in on the plan, or if the perps wanted her to hear that, and repeat it? Anyone's guess."

"So your opinion is that they should attend," McGonagall said slowly, eyebrows raised at her ex-student, and Tonks nodded.

"Well," Mrs. Weasley huffed. "I do not agree. I would prefer to pull the girls from school and keep them at home."

"We know, Molly," Mr. Weasley said tiredly, rubbing is temples with one hand, and Mrs. Weasley glared at him.

"Not an option," Shacklebolt said simply. "They need to be here. If I'd questioned it before, the DA would make it obvious. They're making a difference here. They aren't just children anymore Molly, they're fighters. They're leaders."

Arthur and Bill Weasley smiled at the teens with pride, and Snape rolled his eyes.

"I agree with Tonks," Shacklebolt continued. "Whether the girl is complicit or not, it seems an obvious attempt to get them alone."

"Would it be worth," Ginny began hesitantly, glancing at Hermione as she spoke, "springing the trap?"

Every Weasley in the room stiffened, and everyone else – save Hermione – glared at the redheaded girl.

"Hear me out," she said, leaning forward. "We know Voldemort is after us, and we know that he intends for Lucius Malfoy and Dolohov to coordinate the attack. Yes, likely it'll be students who try to capture us, but we will be _brought_ to Malfoy and Dolohov. If we allow ourselves to be captured, with some way of being tracked, we may be able to catch them."

"No!" Arthur Weasley was first to protest. "It's far too risky. What if we lose track of you? What if Dolohov – "

Hermione flinched, closing her eyes quickly, then let out a slow breath and opened them again, her eyes burning with a steady rage.

"It would be worth the risk to capture them," Hermione said quietly after a moment. "But we needn't both be caught. One would do."

"Dolohov is obsessed with you, remember?" Harry asked sharply, and Neville and Ron both stiffened in their seats. "What do you think he'll do to you, if he catches you? I promise, he won't be bringing you tea and crumpets!"

Hermione shook her head, swallowing convulsively. "I know that," she said quietly. "But still – "

"Not you," Ginny said darkly. "Harry's right, you'd never be safe with Dolohov. But Riddle is still fascinated with me – "

"No!" both of the Weasley parents cried together, and Mrs. Weasley spun on her heel to stare at Dumbledore. Harry glared angrily at Hermione, who shot him an apologetic look, then moved the glare to Ginny, who looked at him steadily.

"Please, Albus," Mrs. Weasley cried, and Harry reached out, squeezing Luna's hand as the younger girl flinched. "Don't you see what a mistake this would be?"

Harry's eyes shifted to Shacklebolt, who was sitting stock-still in his chair, his hands clenched. He had gotten to know the Auror over the summer, and he had quite a bit of respect for the man. Not in the least, because the Auror had become very protective over Hermione. The large man was staring straight at both girls, saying nothing. Neville nudged Harry in the arm, and he turned his head to look at Ron, who was staring at Ginny as if he'd never seen her before.

"You will both be at the feast," Arthur Weasley said quietly to the two young witches, and Ginny stared at him challengingly. "Or I _will_ make you regret it. Shacklebolt, I trust you to see to that?"

"Oh, count on that," Shacklebolt replied.

"I'd like to see you _try_ to make me do anything," Hermione said waspishly, and the Auror smiled dangerously.

"Test me, then," he stated calmly, and Tonks nodded with a scowl. "Your parents entrusted us with your safety," he continued. "I'm not going to betray that, and neither are you."

Ginny scowled. "If you're all done deciding our fates, then," she said angrily, and Dumbledore sighed.

"Enough," the elderly wizard said. "This discussion is over. William, Kingsley, please ensure the students learn to resist Side-Along Apparation and Portkeys, just as a precaution. Hermione, Ginevra, you will allow Professors Shacklebolt and Tonks to escort you to the Great Hall on the evening of the feat, and to escort you back to your dorms after. You will not go anywhere without them or _all_ of your friends present on Halloween, do you understand?"

Hermione nodded simply, her face still tight with annoyance, but Ginny scowled again. "Won't it look awfully suspicious?" she questioned. "Us being escorted around by professors the day we were warned of an attack. If Davis _is_ in on it, she'll know she was found out."

"I suppose," Snape said waspishly, clearly at his wit's end with all the discussion, "they shall just have to give you detentions, then."

This time, Hermione scowled.

Harry just leaned back in his seat, and looked over at Ginny, who turned her head and met his gaze.

Harry Potter hated Halloween.

* * *

 _The Black Lake_

 _Hogwarts_

 _September 12_ _th_ _, 1996_

"Don't, Dad," Ginny said sharply, and Arthur Weasley smiled lopsidedly at his little girl. Ignoring her growl of annoyance, he sat gingerly on the log beside her, staring off into the lake. A few feet away, a figure stopped by the forest's edge, watching silently.

"You're the first female Weasley born in over a hundred years, did you know that?" Arthur asked his daughter quietly, and Ginny scoffed.

"Of course I know that, Dad," she said simply. "You've told me at least a dozen times a year since I was born."

The balding redhead smiled fondly, his eyes clouded with memories. "I remember the day we brought you home," he murmured. "Your mother was so elated, your brothers were in awe of you – Bill especially," he said with a slight laugh. "And you were so tiny, so perfect..."

Her frown faded as she watched her father, and he sighed after a moment, turning to face her fully.

"I know you've been through terrible things," he said simply. "And I know you'll never be a true child again. I understand that. But just the same," he continued urgently, "I want you to grow up happy, and healthy, and strong. I want you to go on to have a career, and love, and a family."

He reached out and brushed a strand of fiery hair away from his daughter's face. "And someday, I hope," he added, "you'll have children of your own. Children who you would protect from even stubbing their toe, if you could. And someday, you'll understand why we cannot let you offer yourself as bait."

Ginny closed her eyes as tears welled in her eyes. "Dad, it could save someone," she said anxiously. "Don't you see – "

"We have no way of reliably tracking you," he cut her off, his voice hardening. "Say you succeed, get yourselves captured, then what? We can't get you back, and you die, _painfully_. What does that achieve?"

Ginny flinched.

"I know this is hard to hear," Arthur said quietly, "but it's the truth. This is not the way. It's not _time_ to go on the offensive yet. You and your brother and the rest are _not_ ready to fight a war!"

Ginny's head turned slowly, her gaze steely.

"Not ready?" she hissed. "Not _ready?_ I've been fighting this war since I was eleven!"

She shot angrily to her feet, and Arthur reached out, but she shrugged him off. "I got the sex talk from _Voldemort,"_ she hissed to her horrified father. "He explained to me where babies came from before my own parents could. He taught me how to lie and hide, he taught me history – he showed me secrets. Everyone forgets, don't they?" she said shrilly. "Everyone forgets he was in my _head_ all year, looking out from behind _my_ eyes! He knows all of my weaknesses, all of my fears, all of my dreams, and he has for _years!"_

"Ginny," Arthur said shakily, "I didn't – "

His daughter didn't seem to hear him. She spun around, stalking toward the lake, and stood with her back to him. _She still looks so small,_ he thought sadly.

"Do you think, Dad, that just because it was a different version of him, that he knows nothing about it? Do you think he's not curious about the girl Lucius Malfoy helped his shade possess? He _knows_ he would have taught me things," she snarled, "and one way or another, he needs to eliminate me. Either by forcing me to join him, or by killing me. That's _never going to change!_ "

Ginny let out a harsh breath and spun on her heel again, looking her shell-shocked father in the eye. "And guess what? It doesn't matter. Because I'm in danger," she continued, "Harry and Ron and Hermione are in danger, no matter what. But others don't have to be. How many fathers need to lose their children, how many children need to lose their families, Dad, before it's _time_? Is five enough? Or ten? Or fifty?"

She shook her head sadly, squeezing her eyes shut as a tear slipped from her eyes.

"I love you, Daddy," she whispered, "but the time has long passed."

And she walked away.

Arthur Weasley sat silently on the log, staring at the spot where his daughter had been. Tears flowed down his cheeks and he dropped his head into his hands, his shoulders shaking. A soft, warm hand curled around his shoulder and Arthur turned blindly, leaning into his wife as he wept for his little girl.

* * *

 _Headmaster's Office_

 _Hogwarts_

 _September 12_ _th_ _, 1996_

Ginny stepped across the threshold of the office, crossing the room to sit in one of the squashy armchairs before the desk. Dumbledore looked back at her silently.

"You know it's worth the risk," she said simply, and Dumbledore sighed.

"Your parents will never agree," he pointed out.

"I can do it on my own," she countered, and Fawkes warbled sadly in the corner. "And I'll likely die. Or you can help me." She let out a shaky breath, then smiled at him sadly. "Please, Professor, I'm tired of living in fear. I want to _do_ something. I want to make Lucius Malfoy pay."

The headmaster just looked at her, and she met his gaze with no hesitation.

"I'm agreeing to nothing just yet," he said finally. Lacing his fingers on the desk, he leaned forward. "What do you propose?"

* * *

Review if you have something to say.

~*~SeraphinArgento


	3. Chapter 2: Before I Wake

**The Paths We Tread**

Chapter Two:

Before I Wake

 _Privet Drive_

 _Little Whinging, Surrey_

 _September 27th, 1996_

It was five a.m., and Petunia should have been asleep.

Pursing her lips in annoyance, she flung the covers away, wrinkling her nose as Vernon turned in his sleep and nuzzled into the warm spot she vacated. She loved her husband – it was only proper, after all – but she hated having her space infringed upon. Shaking her head at the man hugging her pillow, she padded quietly from the bedroom.

Opening the bathroom door carefully, she closed the door behind herself before turning on the light, then sat on the edge of the tub, dropping her head down into her hands.

She couldn't get those piercing green eyes out of her mind.

Shaking her head roughly, she scowled once more. She'd been dreaming of Lily's eyes for years, always the same, just _looking_ at her with such disappointment. One would think she would be used to it by now.

 _Why should the disapproval of a dead woman matter to me, anyhow_ , she thought spitefully.

She shook her head again, as though one more time would clear it, and stood to face the mirror. Eyeing herself critically, her long neck, her sharp nose, her stringy light brown hair, she sighed. It was no wonder Vernon was cheating on her. She didn't keep up her looks, she allowed that _freak_ to contaminate their family, and the house –

 _Well, the house, at least, is perfect,_ she thought to herself with no small amount of pride.

But her face was red, her eyes bleary, so she splashed cold water on her face, and left the bathroom with a sigh. Finally flicking on the hall light, she turned and stared at their attic door. She hadn't been up there in years, she mused, not since she had stuck all of her parents' things up there, all those years ago.

She took a step forward, her hand out – then backed away. Shaking her head, she spun on her heel and headed back to her bedroom.

Standing in the window, she looked down the darkened street. All the lights had gone out again, she reflected – surely with the neighborhood fees they paid, they should have working streetlights? A shadow moved on the street corner, illuminated by the moonlight, and she scoffed again.

 _Hooligans_ , she thought, and climbed back in bed.

Petunia Dursley fell into a fitful sleep, and never felt the flames.

* * *

 _Potions Classroom_

 _Hogwarts_

 _September 27th, 1996_

Arthur Weasley slammed the double doors open, his face somber and his eyes hardened. "Harry," he said sharply, and Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville swiveled instantly in their seats.

"Mr. Weasley," Snape said harshly, his face twisting in a scowl as every student gaped at the doorway, "class is in session. I suggest – "

"I need to borrow one of your students," Arthur said instantly, cutting the man off without a second thought. "Family emergency."

"I hardly think that – " the dour professor snarled, and Minerva McGonagall swept into the room behind Arthur, eyeing Snape over the rim of her glasses. "Fine," Snape barked. "Potter, get out. Do you need Weasley, Granger, and Longbottom as well?" Snape questioned Arthur snidely, but the balding redhead shook his head.

"Just Harry," Arthur said quietly, gesturing to the black-haired teen. Hermione and Neville exchanged worried looks, and Ron glared at his father in annoyance. Arthur shot his youngest son a quelling look and Neville elbowed him sharply as Harry packed up his things in quiet confusion. Hermione squeezed his hand as he walked by, and he gave her a small smile.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall said softly as the door slammed shut behind them. She placed one long-fingered hand on Harry's shoulder and steered him towards the stairs, ignoring the young man's questions. They ducked through a tapestry and emerged on another floor, making quick time to the headmaster's office.

" _What_ has happened?" Harry burst out finally as they stood on the revolving staircase, and Arthur and McGonagall exchanged solemn looks. The door opened at the top of the stairs, to reveal Lupin and Bill sitting in armchairs before the Headmaster's desk. Both men rose as they entered, and Harry stopped in the doorway.

" _Who has died?"_ he demanded, and Arthur flinched.

* * *

 _Headmaster's Office_

 _Hogwarts_

 _September 27th, 1996_

"Well?" Harry asked again, annoyance sharpening his tone, as the adults in the room all grew even more somber-looking. "Am I to guess?"

Nervous glances were exchanged, and Bill stepped forward. "The Dursleys, Harry" the cursebreaker said simply. "Fiendfyre took the whole neighborhood before the Aurors could get it contained."

Harry stared, his face going white. It was Arthur Weasley who reached him first when his knees buckled, and guided him gently to a nearby chair.

"How many?" the boy croaked, swallowing convulsively. "How many are dead?"

"We don't know yet," Lupin said quietly. "Mrs. Figg was able to raise the alarm and escape, but – "

Harry let out a ragged, pained sigh and dropped his head into his hands. Lupin abruptly stopped talking, shooting Bill a concerned look. In his mind, the cursebreaker scoffed. What did they expect? For him to take it in stride?

"Obviously," Dumbledore said quietly, speaking for the first time, "you're in no fit state to continue classes." Harry shrugged, not moving from his hunched-over position. "We thought you could go along to the cottage, spend the weekend there."

"Do you want anyone to go with us?" Bill asked softly, "Hermione? Ron?" Harry shook his head without looking up. "Luna?" Here, Harry hesitated for a moment, then shook his head again. "Alright," Bill said quietly, "go on ahead, then, I'll catch you up."

Harry stood stiffly and crossed to the fireplace with his head still hanging. With a murmured "Shell Cottage," he vanished in the green flames.

The others all stood silently, watching the fireplace for several moments after he had gone. Bill let out a quiet sigh of sorrow before turning to look at the others.

"This must be kept from the papers. If the Daily Prophet reports that it was his family targeted – " Lupin trailed off sadly.

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "I shall see to it," he replied. "But Harry – "

"Is _my_ responsibility," Bill cut him off. "Make his excuses," he instructed McGonagall, "I don't care what you tell the other professors, as long as it's not the truth. Kingsley and Tonks obviously already know."

McGonagall nodded sharply. "I'll gather some of his books and things for you," offered the Deputy Headmistress, "in case he wants a distraction from–"

Bill snorted, his eyebrows drawn together. "He has what he needs at the cottage," he said simply. "And he is _not_ doing _essays_ this weekend," he spat incredulously. "Hundreds of people are dead, and you know as well as I that he's blaming himself. You will," he continued, gesturing to the fireplace, " _make his excuses_ , and he will do his work this weekend _only_ if he asks for it."

Nobody responded, but Bill absently noted a stricken look on McGonagall's face and an approving nod coming from his father. "And I promise you," he added in a low hiss, "if _anyone_ gives him trouble over not having work done on Monday, _that person_ will see a new side of me."

That settled, he spun for the fireplace.

"William, the Order will need to meet later," Dumbledore called after him, "to arrange the logistics of Harry's care."

"Really?" Bill asked. "What's to arrange? He stays with me."

Arthur chuckled under his breath, grinning wryly at his eldest son. In contrast, Dumbledore frowned.

"Arrangements must be made," said the Headmaster. "Now that his legal guardians are gone, he will need – "

"And I've just told you," Bill replied, "he stays with me."

"But – "

"No," Bill cut in again. "You brought him to _me,_ Headmaster, if you recall. When he had fulfilled his requisite time with his _so-called family_ , you brought him to my house and asked me to care for him." In his mind's eye, an image formed, a young man standing in front of his house in the rain, his clothes hanging off his skinny frame, eyes glinting with sorrow and defiance. An air of helplessness and fury hovered around the boy, and he stood alone. "You realize he hadn't eaten in _days_ when you brought him to me, his shoes were _completely_ worn-through, and his clothes were three sizes too big! I could count his ribs!" he exclaimed.

Lupin growled under his breath, and McGonagall scowled as Dumbledore closed his eyes.

"And _that_ ," Bill continued, "is with us having been there _every other day._ Do you _know_ what his life was like when all of us kept our distance, Headmaster? Because I do. It took _weeks_ for him to open up, but he finally did. I know more about his life than anyone but his friends, and I can be there to help him get through."

Dumbledore's eyes were shadowed, and Bill knew he was recalling the massive row between them, right before the school year started, when Dumbledore had "offered" to find someone else to care for Harry, in case it was too much of a burden for the eldest Weasley son. "Very well," Dumbledore said softly. "I will begin arrangements to transfer both magical and legal guardianship to you. Please let me know if you require any assistance."

Bill nodded sharply, claped his father on the shoulder, and turned to the fireplace.

"William?" Dumbledore called after him, and the cursebreaker paused, turning to look over his shoulder at the headmaster. Dumbledore looked sadly back at him. "If he asks, will you tell him?"

"That you held his magical guardianship all this time, and could have legally taken him away any moment you chose?" Bill asked plainly. His mouth twisted in a slight grimace. "I will not lie for you, Headmaster. Not to him."

And with a flash of green flames, he was gone.

* * *

 _Shell Cottage_

 _Tinworth, Cornwall_

 _September 27th, 1996_

He stepped out into a small, cozy room, and stood on the hearth a moment, brushing soot off his robes. The room was empty, Harry's cloak hung neatly on the hook by the fire, his shoes – Bill smirked, he had gotten Harry hooked on Converse – lying to the right of the hearth. The eldest Weasley son nodded to himself, and crossed to the back door.

Harry sat huddled on a large, flat rock on the shore, his eyes distant as he stared out to the sea. Silently, Bill lowered himself to the space beside the boy, leaning back on his elbows and crossing his ankles as he gazed out over the waves. It only took a couple minutes for Harry to speak.

"Where am I going to go?"

Bill smiled sadly. "Nowhere, for now," he said simply. "You'll stay here until you feel ready to face the public again, and then you'll go back to school."

Harry cut his eyes over to the older man and scoffed. "You know what I mean," he said sullenly and here, Bill shot him a wry grin.

"And I've just answered you," he replied. "You'll go back to school when you're ready, and come here for Christmas break. We'll hide out at the beach and go to Mum's on Christmas Eve, where she'll stuff you with extra pudding and claim I don't feed you enough. Then we'll come back here and hide at the beach some more. Then you'll go back to school – "

Harry interrupted him, his eyes flashing. "The Ministry isn't going to let me just _stay_ here," he said angrily, and Bill shrugged.

"They will once Dumbledore's done with them, and I become your legal guardian."

Harry stared.

"If you want, I mean," the cursebreaker said calmly, reaching up to fiddle with his dragontooth earring as Harry continued to stare. "Obviously, if you'd prefer to live with someone else, I won't stand in your way, but I think you'd be best served here."

"You mean that?" the black-haired wizard asked, his eyes suspiciously bright, and Bill shrugged.

"I think we understand each other," he replied, "but yeah, if you wanted to go somewhere else – "

"No, I – I mean, yes, I mean – " Harry stuttered, and Bill waited patiently. As he watched the waves, Harry drew a deep breath, then finally offered, "I like living by the sea."

Bill smiled. They sat there in silence a while longer, listening to the crashing of the surf, before he finally asked, "How are you holding up in there?"

Harry shrugged. "How many died?" he asked again, and Bill winced.

"We truly don't know," he murmured. "When I left Privet Drive – "

"You were there?" Harry said sharply, and Bill nodded.

"They called in all reinforcements," he explained. Shoving a loose strand of red hair back from his face, he frowned deeply. "There was – a lot to go through. It didn't just hit your old house or street – it made it all the way to Magnolia Crescent, and that park. Muggle authorities are explaining it as a gas line explosion."

"So... hundreds," Harry whispered, and Bill nodded. Harry flinched, drawing in on himself a little further. "I can't keep doing this," he said brokenly. "I can't keep watching people die."

"You're not ready yet," Bill replied urgently. "Rushing ahead won't solve anything. You need to keep training, and let us work on figuring out why the fucker won't die."

Harry nodded distantly. They had had this talk before, and the last time, he had screamed, had broken things, had collapsed. This time, it was just too much effort to summon up the energy.

"It's Friday afternoon," Bill added. "If we're canceling your sparring lessons, I need to let Krum know now."

Harry looked up with fire in his eyes. "I want to _hit_ something," he nearly snarled, and Bill gave him a dark smile. Raising his wand, he shot off a patronus first to McGonagall, then to Krum.

They sat on the rock a while longer, before the chattering of voices echoed over the sand dunes. Getting to his feet, he clapped his brother on the shoulder as Ron and Hermione moved quickly past him, barely sparing him a glance. They rushed to Harry's side, settling in next to him like a pair of bookends, and the trio began speaking quickly in hushed voices. Glancing towards the house, he saw Neville and Ginny look at the group sadly before walking inside, gesturing as they spoke.

Luna stood alone by the beach path, her long skirt blowing in the wind and her blond hair somewhat tangled. She watched solemnly as the trio huddled together, and Bill walked over to stand beside her.

"He'll be alright," Bill said comfortingly, and Luna looked at him with a sad smile, and shook her head. Turning sharply on her heel, she walked up into the house with the others. Bill lingered there a moment, watching as the teens closed ranks around his new ward.

 _I'm only twenty-six_ , Bill thought tiredly. _I'm too young to parent a sixteen year old, especially one who needs to become a warrior to survive._

But he walked up to the cottage anyway, and greeted his sister and Neville, and met Krum at the doorway with a warning of what had happened, and instructions to push the kids as hard as he could.

Then he stepped back, while Krum took the teens out onto the shore, and closed himself in his small library.

 _One way or another_ , he thought to himself grimly, _I'll find a way._

* * *

 _Great Hall_

 _Hogwarts_

 _September 30th, 1996_

Harry hovered in the Entrance Hall, watching from the shadows behind the Grand Staircase as students trickled into the hall for breakfast. He had only just returned from Cornwall, and the sleepy chatter of the students was deafening after the profound quiet of the shore. The time away had done him good, he knew – he felt more steady, more sure –

More determined. As they had often done over the summer break, he and Bill had sat side by side before the fire, talking about old "war stories." Bill had a tendency to use Harry's natural curiosity against him, and would use the reward of curse-breaking stories to draw from Harry the truth of his own adventures, at first, and his home life later on. These long conversations often left Harry feeling drained, but a while after, he would feel almost lighter, as if some unseen burden had been lifted from him.

Twice over the weekend, also like that summer, Bill had found him on the beach in the early hours of dawn, and joined him for a vicious sparring session.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his bomber jacket and scowled. And now he was back – back to the staring and the whispers and –

"Harry!" a voice exclaimed, and Harry jerked his eyes from the banister and grinned as Ginny bounded down the steps toward him. Neville followed at a more sedate pace, watching the steps with his brow furrowed. Near the bottom of the stairs, Ginny simply leapt, and Harry caught her with a laugh, her momentum spinning them in a circle before he set her down on her feet.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Ginny asked seriously, her brown eyes searching his, and Harry sighed then shrugged.

"Your brother is a lifesaver, Ginny," Harry replied earnestly, and Ginny grinned again.

"You realize, with Bill becoming your guardian, that I'm basically your aunt now," she pointed out teasingly, "and Ron is your uncle."

Harry groaned, shaking his head, and Neville grinned as he joined them. "Fred and George, too," he added with a devious grin.

"I refuse to call you _Aunt Ginny_ ," Harry said scathingly. "If I have children someday, _they_ will call you Aunt Ginny, but _not me_."

Ginny simply smiled. "Come along, nephew mine," she said airily, linking her arm through his and steering him forward. "We still have time to eat before you need to change for class." She eyed his outfit up and down approvingly as Neville snickered, and Harry gave up arguing with the red-headed witch. Instead, he let her pull him along, listening as she chattered about something that had happened over the weekend after they had returned from sparring lessons, nodding and exclaiming in all the right places.

They crossed the Great Hall unimpeded, though Harry shot the Slytherin table a suspicious look. Malfoy had been oddly silent all year, and he wondered when it was going to end. The Slytherin teen had shot the occasional vicious quip their way, certainly, but had made no attempts to start any actual confrontation. It was, Harry thought, unlike him, however welcome.

He'd like an excuse to pummel someone, though, and their next sparring lesson was days away.

Settling down at the Gryffindor table, he was greeted by Ron and Hermione with warm smiles, and he glanced over at the Ravenclaw table, sharing a shy smile with Luna. Hermione looked at him knowingly and Ginny nudged his shoulder as he blushed, and Harry simply shrugged.

They ate quickly, Ginny bringing up the "aunt and uncle" discussion again and egging Ron on as Harry groaned pitifully. After about twenty minutes, Harry stood from the table and crossed the hall to the main staircase, to head up and change for class. Right at the base of the stairs, lost in thought, he bumped into someone's shoulder.

"Oh, excuse me," he began, turning, and his expression changed from apologetic to annoyed as he set eyes on Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy looked back at him, his grey eyes glinting, and raised his chin. "There _is_ no excuse for you, Potter," he replied, then spun on his heel and stalked away.

Harry watched him go in silence, then glared distrustfully up the stairs. What business did _Malfoy_ have up there, he wondered.

Shaking his head, he resumed his trek to Gryffindor Tower, deliberately turning his mind towards the day ahead.

* * *

 _Transfiguration Classroom_

 _Hogwarts_

 _October 18th, 1996_

"Human transfiguration is the most difficult and dangerous discipline you will study at Hogwarts," McGonagall lectured, looking out at them sternly over the rim of her glasses. "Many of you will not successfully complete this task for quite some time. As such, from now until the end of term, we will spend the last fifteen minutes of classtime in this exercise." Neville glanced over to Hermione worriedly, and she shot him a reassuring smile.

Neville scowled and turned his attention back to the professor. She moved quickly but precisely through the instructions, then stepped back from the podium. Neville just leaned back in his chair and looked around the room. Hermione and Harry were both looking down at their fingers with intense concentration, and after several moments of muttering, a light, filmy webbing appeared around Hermione's fingers.

Hermione smiled and shot Harry a triumphant look, and the black-haired wizard scowled back at her. Ron, Neville was relieved to note, looked just as lost as he did. A pointed frown from Hermione had both boys turning their attention to their hands, and Neville glared down at his fingers and willed them to film over.

He had _never_ been so happy for the bell to ring. Shooting to his feet, he gathered up his bag and all but ran for the door, Ron right at his heels, with Hermione and Harry shaking their heads and following behind a bit more slowly.

"I'm telling you, my fingers were starting to feel slimy!" Harry said excitedly. "I think I almost had it."

"It does make sense that you would have a talent in human-to-animal transfiguration." Hermione encouraged. "After all, with your father's Animagus talent – "

The two chattered quietly as Neville let out a quiet sigh, and Ron grinned at him ruefully. "Harry has turned into a bit of a bookworm this term, hasn't he?" Neville asked quietly.

Ron's eyes shadowed, and he glanced over his shoulder at his black-haired friend. "If it makes him happy," he said softly, and both boys sombered.

Harry had been well enough during the day, after returning from Shell Cottage. He had gone to class and to Quidditch practice, been prepared and engaging during DA meetings, laughed at the right jokes, and just generally been his normal kind, but somewhat snarky, self. All of the DA watched and waited for him to snap at first, knowing something must have happened for him to have been pulled from Potions lessons and then disappear from the school. But he had behaved no differently – after all, if his eyes sometimes went dark and haunted, and a frown sometimes appeared on his face, that was natural for the Boy Who Lived.

But Neville had lost track of the number of times he and Ron had woken in the dead of the night, to find Harry curled in a shaking ball under his covers, crying in his sleep, or muttering names of the dead like a chant. They had tried to hide it from Seamus and Dean at first, but their dorm-mates had had their sleep interrupted too many times for them to brush it off.

Now nearly every night would find one of the four boys, sitting at the end of Harry's bed and talking quietly to the shaking teen, trying to soothe his horrors before he even woke.

A sudden _snap_ pulled Neville from his thoughts, and with a muttered oath, he looked down to see his bag tear, and the contents scatter all over the ground. "Damn!" he exclaimed, and the others stopped up short. Hermione quickly knelt to try to help clear up the mess, and Neville waved her off.

"Go ahead," the sandy-haired teen sad shortly. "Go on to the feast, save me a seat," he added, meeting Hermione's eyes and jerking his head slightly in Harry's direction. McClaggen had taken to hovering in the halls lately, and Neville didn't want to think what would happen if he caught Harry or one of the girls alone. They could hold their own, certainly – but anyone could be taken by surprise. Hermione rolled her eyes and nodded, jumping lightly back up and turning to Harry and Ron.

"Let's go on and catch up with Ginny," she said simply, linking arms with Harry and pulling him along, and Harry sighed. Neville grinned lightly after them as they loped around the corner with Ron, then turned back to his scattered belongings and sighed. His bag hadn't ripped, after all – the strap had snapped and then the cloth torn in a perfect line.

A quick _reparo_ later and he was gathering all his belongings back into the bag. He heard the footsteps behind him and simply waited, not turning.

"What do you _want_?" he asked finally, when it became clear the other teen wasn't going to speak.

Draco Malfoy stepped up next to him and smirked. "You're getting _brave_ , Longbottom," the blond boy mocked. "Sending your friends all off to face me alone?"

Neville met the other wizard's eyes steadily, no smirk or smile on his face. "I faced down Bellatrix Lestrange and survived," he said simply, and the Slytherin's eyes flickered. "What are you to me?"

"Yes, well," Malfoy replied, a bored look settling on his face. "Dear Aunt Bella has slipped a bit in her old age. _Reverted_ , you could almost say."

Neville scoffed. "What do you _want_ , Malfoy?" he asked again, sharper this time, and the Slytherin teen sneered again.

"To give you some advice," said Malfoy easily. "You got lucky last time around. The Death Eaters were all under orders to _not_ kill any of you. There _is_ no such order any longer, Nevvy. For half of you, it's a kill-on-sight order now."

"Half?" Neville questioned, and the Malfoy scion grinned easily.

"Obviously, the Dark Lord has a hard-on for Potter," Malfoy scoffed, "but orders for the Weaselette and the Mudblood have been changed. Loony, too."

"And?"

"And you should watch the girls, Longbottom," Malfoy advised, his sneer fading a moment. "Make _certain_ they are in the Great Hall for the Halloween feast. Keep them under guard _the whole night_. If they are not, you will regret it to your dying day."

Neville glared at the Slytherin boy. "Why them? And why are you telling me this?"

"Honestly, Longbottom," Malfoy hissed under his breath as a pair of Ravenclaw girls walked down the opposite side of the hallway, shooting them curious looks. The Slytherin teen stepped closer and Neville tightened his grip on his wand, hanging at his side. "The Death Eaters are all about bringing back old values, restoring the aristocracy and preserving the purity of blood. Does it _really_ surprise you that they're a bit old-fashioned?"

Neville's frown deepened.

"As for why I'm telling you this," Malfoy grinned, "maybe I just like watching you squirm, wondering what you should do."

And with a jaunty wave, the Slytherin walked away.

Neville stood there a moment, scowling after the other teen. With a muttered oath, he ran his hands through his sandy-brown hair and turned to head to the Great Hall.

"Neville?" a voice called from across the hall, and he glanced over to see Padma Patil frowning at him thoughtfully. "Are you alright?"

He looked back at her, his brow furrowed. "Emergency DA meeting tonight," he said instead. "Spread the word."

And turning on his heel, he swept off to find Shacklebolt.

* * *

 _Shell Cottage_

 _Tinworth, Cornwall_

 _October 23rd, 1996_

Harry grunted as he ducked under Krum's staff, hitting the ground on his knees and rolling to his feet again. With a sharp motion, he swung the dagger in his left hand towards the Bulgarian, his wand in his right hand shooting off spells. The Quidditch star grinned as he dodged – left, then right, then a move almost as if he were playing limbo. A jet of red light grazed the sleeve of his jacket and Krum hooted, nodding at Harry in approval.

The black-haired wizard scowled and jumped suddenly in the air, Krum's staff missing his feet by barely an inch. He landed a foot back and immediately shot off another spell, and Krum winced as his sleeve split and blood welled on his arm.

"Hold!" Krum shouted, and Harry froze mid-motion. The Bulgarian shrunk his staff with a wave of his wand and smiled, all teeth. "Aim is getting much better," the man said thickly, and Harry shrugged.

"We're practicing a lot," he said simply, and Krum gave him a knowing look. _A lot_ , Harry thought, _as in every morning for an hour before breakfast, and every evening for two – not counting DA sessions, which we've upped to twice a week._

"And Herm-own-ninny?" he asked, a worried frown on his face. "She does much practice?"

Harry just nodded. The others hadn't increased their sparring practice to twice-weekly like he had, but they trained at the school with each other every chance they got.

"I worry," the Bulgarian said softly, and Harry gave the older teen a slight smile.

"I worry, too," Harry admitted. "But Hermione is smart, and she's strong, and – "

"And y _ou_ von't let anything happen to her?" Krum demanded. Harry scoffed immediately.

" _Hermione_ won't let anything happen to her!" Harry exclaimed, glaring at Krum incredulously. "Have you _met_ her? She's saved mine and Ron's arses far more often than we've ever saved hers."

Krum chuckled. "Am sure this is true," he said after a moment. "Still – "

"Still," Harry agreed, "every one of us will protect her any way we can, just as she would do for us."

A look of understanding passed between the two young men, and Harry returned to the school soon after. He made his way quickly to Gryffindor Tower and crossed the Common Room without even glancing in anyone's direction, heading straight up to his dorm. With a heavy sigh, he sat cross-legged on his bed and pulled the curtains closed, taking off his glasses and setting them down on the bedside table. A small puff of air hit his hand and he smiled wryly. With a deft move, he snatched up the little model Horntail that had graced his bedside table since the Tournament. The Horntail figure huffed at him, then ambled up his arm to his shoulder, curling up like a cat with its tail tucked around itself, and went back to sleep.

Harry stretched his legs in front of himself, not bothering to kick off his shoes, and leaned back with his head against the pillows, and slowly drifted into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

 _Gryffindor Tower_

 _Hogwarts_

 _October 23rd, 1996_

"Wake up," a voice said suddenly, and Harry started, shooting straight up with a panicked look. The horntail figurine squeaked and stumbled off his shoulder, and the brown-haired female blur chuckled. Harry muttered under his breath as he fumbled for his glasses, frowning at the gently smiling Hermione.

"What time is it?" he asked sleepily.

"Almost six," she replied, "dinner is in an hour. I thought we could go for a walk?"

"Sure," Harry turned and climbed to his feet, rescuing the mini-dragon from the covers. He set the little orange dragon down on its nest on his bedside table and turned back to his friend. "Where's everyone else?"

"Neville and Ron are off with Mad-Eye," said Hermione as they linked arms and left the dorms. "Luna is in Ravenclaw Tower, studying with some of her classmates. I'm not sure about Ginny. She disappears a lot lately," she added with a wry smile.

"A new boyfriend," Harry said with certainty, and Hermione frowned.

"Perhaps," she said simply as they went down the stairs and crossed the common room. They climbed through the portrait hole and Harry, letting Hermione take the lead, found himself steered towards the ground floor and out the large front doors.

After several minutes of companionable silence, they sat beneath "their" tree at the edge of the lake, where he, Ron and Hermione always seemed to find themselves. Harry settled against the trunk with his legs stretched out again. His friend waited patiently as he completed his regular ritual for each time they came here, begun in their third year, when Hagrid had pointed out a carving in the trunk to his young friend.

The letters were faded, the bark peeling, but still, the small carving remained. JP + LE in a small, ragged heart, only three feet from the base of the trunk. Harry traced his fingers over the letters with a sad smile, his eyes lost in thought.

After a few moments, he turned around, leaned his back against the tree, and turned to Hermione with an expectant expression.

"I just thought we could use some time away from studying and training, out of the castle," his friend said softly, and Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," he said, "that's just like you, constantly imposing breaks and rest-times." Hermione grinned nervously.

"Alright, I admit it, I thought perhaps you needed to talk."

"About what?"

Hermione leaned against the trunk beside him, giving him a sternly incredulous look.

Harry shook his head and sighed. "I'm fine," he replied. "I don't need to talk –"

The brunette Gryffindor scowled. "Bottling everything up isn't _healthy_ , Harry," she pointed out, and Harry sighed deeper.

"I'm not. I swear. I'm _not_!" he said louder when she just kept staring at him. "Bill has made me talk it out. Luna has made me talk it out. Hell, _Ron_ has even cornered me for a "chat." You're the only one who gave me space about it."

Hermione giggled at her friend's annoyed look, then sobered. "But did you actually vent at all, Harry, or did you just say what you thought they wanted to hear?"

The black-haired wizard went silent. Hermione leaned slightly on his shoulder and he shifted to hold her up better. They settled in comfortably and he closed his eyes, took a bracing breath, opened them again, and began to speak. "I can talk to Luna, and Ron, and Bill," he insisted. "I can."

"But you don't want to burden anyone," Hermione finished softly.

"But I don't want to burden anyone," he agreed. "You've all done so much for me, _been through_ so much _because of me..._ "

Hermione glared at him balefully, and Harry shrugged. The Gryffindor witch let out a startled _eep_ as her head slipped slightly from its place on his shoulder, and Harry grinned and pulled her back. The constant hugging and cuddling his female friends had all begun initiating after Sirius's death was finally starting to get comfortable for him, and Hermione positively _radiated_ body heat. The girl huffed at him and subsided, waiting for him to speak.

"I just – I just don't want anyone to suffer because of me," he said quietly. "Enough people have already suffered because of me."

" _You_ didn't kill those people, Harry," she murmured.

"Didn't I?" Harry asked, his voice breaking. "The Death Eaters killed the Dursleys because of me. Yes, they were horrible to me. But even _they_ didn't deserve that. And the nosy old lady across the street. The postman three blocks over. The Polkisses... so many people died, just because I used to live there. How is that _not_ because of me?"

"I can't imagine what this must feel like, Harry," Hermione whispered, "but you have to remember to put the blame where it belongs. Voldemort. The Lestranges. Lucius Malfoy. _They_ are to blame for those deaths, not you. You didn't force them to attack. You didn't start this war."

"I haven't finished it, either," Harry said simply, and Hermione turned her head to meet his gaze.

" _We_ haven't finished it," she said heatedly. "Not yet. But we will."

Harry just shook his head.

"I'd be terrified that something would happen to all of you, if I left," he murmured. "But sometimes I wonder if – if I simply packed a bag, and left in the night, wouldn't everyone be better off?"

"Yes," a drawling voice cut in, and the Gryffindors turned their heads as Draco Malfoy came over the rise near the lake. Harry's eyes narrowed and he felt more than saw Hermione roll her own eyes.

"Yes, Potter," Malfoy said scathingly as he came to a halt only feet away from them, flanked – as he often was lately – by Daphne Greengrass and Blaise Zabini, with Parkinson a few steps behind. "Everyone would be better off. There would be a free puppy on every doorstep, no more winter, house-elves would _dance_ in the streets – "

Pansy Parkinson rolled her eyes.

"What do you _want_ , Malfoy?" Hermione asked sharply, and the blond Slytherin smirked.

"Did Longbottom give you my message, Potter?" he asked simply, and Harry stiffened. Hermione said nothing.

"Yes," Harry ground out. "Piss off."

"I applaud your initiative," the Malfoy scion sneered, "guard-dogging one of the targets. But where is the Weaselette?" he asked bitingly. "Are you keeping an eye on her, as well?"

Hermione squeaked as Harry shot to his feet, sending her tumbling slightly to the side. Behind Malfoy, Zabini took a reflexive step towards her, and she glared at the dark-haired Slytherin as she stood on her own. Harry stepped forward until he was nearly to-to-toe with Malfoy, staring him straight in the eye.

"Piss. Off," he said again, his eyes all but shooting sparks. "I don't know what kind of game you're playing at, but – "

"But this _isn't_ a game, Potter," Malfoy hissed back at him. "This is very, very real, and it's very, very soon. And if you and your little _army_ don't listen to me, you're going to wish you had!"

The two wizards glared at each other, neither backing down. Harry opened his mouth to speak, then snapped his jaw shut with an audible click. Shaking her head, Hermione took a step forward and touched Harry's shoulder. Behind Malfoy, Parkinson did the same. Harry glanced at Hermione and sighed, while Malfoy glared at Parkinson and scoffed, shrugging her hand off his arm.

With a snarl, the Slytherin teen turned and stalked away, the other three following him with worried looks. They headed off towards the Forbidden Forest, walking together in a tight formation. None of them even glanced back at Harry and Hermione.

Hermione watched the Slytherins go, her brow furrowed. Spinning around, she looked at Harry with a raised eyebrow.

"Can you believe him?" she asked sharply. Harry didn't respond, his eyes scanning the edge of the forest. "Harry? Harry?" repeated Hermione loudly.

Harry turned away from the forest as the Slytherins disappeared into the trees.

"I don't know," he said quietly.

And without another word, he laced his arm through hers, and started steering her back to the castle.

* * *

 _Potion's Master Office_

 _Hogwarts_

 _October 30th, 1996_

"Well done," Snape murmured softly as the glow faded in her veins. Hermione grimaced as the Potioneer carefully detached her IV's, smiling reassuringly at the green-tinged burly Auror who sat by Snape's desk. Pomfrey circled the Gryffindor witch with her wand aloft, numbers appearing in the air around her.

"The transfusions are having less effect," she said quietly, her eyes darting to Snape's. "Her readings have only gone down by about forty-five percent."

"That was bound to happen eventually," Hermione pointed out logically, ignoring the sudden stillness of both Kingsley and Dora. "The immune system will metabolize anything with enough time."

"It's only been five months," Pomfrey argued. "That's not – "

"Snape," Dora said abruptly, cutting the mediwitch off. "Have you made any progress?"

The Potions Master scowled darkly. "I've isolated the proper enzymes, but figuring out how to reverse the damage? No."

"But you just need to stop the progress, don't you?" Tonks said desperately, and Hermione pulled her robes back around her form and stared determinedly at the floor. From him spot at Snape's desk, Shacklebolt watched her unblinkingly. "If the disease stops eating away at her, you'll have more time to trace it back and reverse the effects and – "

Hermione closed her eyes. "He can't," she said softly, and Dora froze, staring at her young protege. "He can't reverse the effects. Done is done."

"But Hermione," Tonks began, and the younger girl shook her head.

"No," cut in Hermione simply. "No, I have to face the facts, Dora. There are some things that will never go away." She pushed to her feet and headed for the door.

"Miss Granger," Snape intoned, and Hermione paused in the doorway. "You understand that with the reduced efficacy, you will need transfusions weekly from here on out, yes?"

Hermione nodded without turning.

"Which means if, by some terrible happenstance, you and Miss Weasley are successfully captured tomorrow, no matter how long the Dark Lord intends to keep you, you shall be dead within the week."

Pomfrey and Dora gasped, and Hermione could almost _feel_ Kingsley's steely glare.

"Your point?" she asked, matching the bored drawl of his voice to a tee.

"My point, Hermione," the Potions Master said, stepping forward, and Hermione finally turned. All pretense of boredom was gone as he looked her straight in the eye. "My point is that you _must_ not allow yourself to be taken, no matter what. Even if Miss Weasley is captured, you _must not_ be taken. No matter the cost, you _have_ to save yourself."

Hermione's blood ran cold. "Are you saying – "

"Miss Weasley has a chance of surviving," Snape said urgently, and Pomfrey and Dora both closed their eyes. "The Dark Lord will need to find out what his shade taught her all those years ago, the curiosity will drive him mad. She has the luxury, Miss Granger, of _time._ You do not!"

"How dare you," she whispered. Blue sparks shot from her hair and as she trembled in place, ice crystals formed and hung in the air. "How _dare_ you suggest I sacrifice another, one of my _friends_ , to save myself?"

Snape didn't blink. "Hermione," he began.

" _Don't_ ," she bit out, and turning on her heel, she stalked out the door.

Tonks made an odd sound in the back of her throat and rushed after the girl, leaving the other three staring in their wake.

* * *

 _Great Hall_

 _Hogwarts_

 _October 31st, 1996_

Ginny sat staring straight ahead. The day had dragged on forever, every word and sound was getting on her last nerve, and she felt like she hadn't slept in a week.

 _Breathe in, breathe out_ , she thought to herself.

The day of the Halloween Feast had finally arrived. Nobody could say they hadn't prepared as best they could. She, Hermione and the others had trained and dueled and practiced until their limbs went numb. She had memorized the fastest routes from any point in the castle to the entrance. She had trekked with Hagrid through the Forbidden Forest until she could find her way out blindfolded.

There was, truly, nothing left she could do. Either something would happen – or it wouldn't.

None of the Order could agree _which_ Slytherin giving them _which_ warning should be trusted. Tracey Davis was an unknown element, and Ron said he'd gotten a strange vibe off of her. But the general consensus was that anything Malfoy said to do, do the _opposite_.

Strangely enough, both Harry and Neville seemed to believe the blond Slytherin, and were dead-set that she and Hermione would be at the feast. The others, not sure if he was giving a genuine warning or if he was trying reverse pyschology, decided on the simple solution that the group stay together for the entire night. Once she and Hermione descended the wizard-proofed stairs, they weren't allowed to be away from Harry, Ron, Neville or Luna. For any reason. When Ginny had pointed out that such a plan might get them _all_ kidnapped, she had been met with dark glares from multiple directions.

As for the leader of the Order himself, well... Dumbledore had armed them both with Portkeys, spelled to activate at a touch and a specific word from either of them, and he had gone over every contingency he could think of. But he had never agreed to her scheme. Not directly, anyway. He _had_ sent her traipsing through the forest with Hagrid – _only her_ – saying, "It will do no harm for one of you to be able to guide the others through the Forest."

Ginny sighed. She honestly couldn't tell if the Headmaster was trying to prepare her because he agreed to her plan, or if he was simply being cautious.

But it certainly didn't seem to matter.

A sudden shout pulled Ginny from her reverie, and she spun around to see Ernie MacMillan arguing loudly with none other than McClaggen at the Hufflepuff table. Susan Bones was tugging Hannah Abbot behind her insistently, and Ginny scowled. McClaggen had been terrible enough before Snape had confirmed him a Marked DE. As she watched, Justin Finch-Fletchley moved forward and took Hannah by the arm, leading her from the Hall. Sue stepped up beside Ernie and drew her wand as Sprout started down from the staff table.

Ginny shook her head and turned back to see Ron watching her carefully from across the table. There had been a lot of panic over nothing, it seemed so far. They had gone tensely through the entire day, waited silently for Tonks and Shacklebolt to escort them to the Great Hall, watched the Aurors sweep their surroundings for unexpected Portkeys – nothing.

Ginny scowled. It wasn't as though she _wanted_ to be kidnapped by raving lunatics, but to go to all that effort only for nothing to happen was – a little off-putting. As though she had gone to take a step and suddenly found the ground was three feet lower than she thought.

Hermione met her gaze and frowned back at her. On either side of them, their friends seemed to decompress slightly as the feast wore on.

"Maybe this was just a distraction," Hermione said quietly. "Meant to keep our attention away from something else."

Harry frowned in thought. His dream had been specific, as he had pointed out several times before, that Halloween was the day the Death Eaters were going to try. And despite the fact that they _all_ knew he'd gotten a false vision before to disastrous effect, everyone had believed this one to be genuine.

Until the day came, and nothing happened.

"Halloween isn't over," Neville pointed out somberly. "I hope you're right, Hermione. Obviously, I don't want anything to happen to either of you. But I know I, for one, won't relax until Halloween is _long_ over."

From her spot to Ginny's right, Luna nodded emphatically, and Ginny sighed.

* * *

 _Great Hall_

 _Hogwarts_

 _October 31st, 1996_

Harry watched with distaste as the Herbology professor descended on McClaggen, nodding his approval when Sue and Ernie kept their wands trained on the boy. Sprout's normally kindly demeanor seemed a bit more charged, and by the set of her jaw, Harry could tell she was about to –

"He is coming!" McClaggen suddenly screamed and, with a sharp jab of his wand, Sprout crumbled. Gasps and screams erupted through the hall as McClaggen spun and fired towards the Hufflepuffs, and Sue knocked Ernie to the ground, both of them rolling under the table. Students were screaming, crawling under the house tables as quickly as they could, and Neville shoved Ginny under the Gryffindor table as Ron grabbed Hermione. McClaggen raised his wand and pointed it towards the ceiling as Shacklebolt and Tonks dove over the staff table –

" _Morsmorde!"_ McClaggen cried, and a giant skull appeared in the air, hovering over the hall. Shacklebolt fired a stunner towards the boy and felled him on the second shot, as Tonks skidded to a halt before the Gryffindor table, wand raised. Harry and Ron jumped up from the table and stood side-to-side with her, wands trained in opposing directions around the hall. Behind them, Neville cast a shield over Ginny and Luna over Hermione, and each teen glared around the room.

"Everybody _freeze!_ " Dumbledore called, and the screaming and scrambling students stilled and fell silent. "Minerva," he said sharply, and the Deputy Head nodded sharply and crossed the room, her wand already pointing at the unconscious Gryffindor. Snape swept down behind her, a thunderous scowl on his face, and Pomfrey rushed alongside him and dropped to her knees beside Professor Sprout.

As McGonagall bound McClaggen in ropes and Snape stood guard, Harry scanned the room for his "key players." All of the DA was on their feet by now, he was pleased to note, spreading through the room in the groups of two and three. Off to his right a bit, Dean and Parvati were standing in front of the shaking Gryffindor first years, with Lavender crouched on the ground speaking to them softly. Over by the Hufflepuff table, Sue and Ernie had gotten back up, and a reluctant Ernie was trying to stop Sue from kicking McClaggen in the ribs. Neither Snape nor McGonagall, he noticed absently, were doing much of anything to stop her from kicking the unconscious boy.

His eyes kept traveling the hall, and stopped on the Slytherin table. Malfoy still sat, Zabini, Parkinson and Greengrass getting up from the floor around him. The blond teen didn't look as though he had moved throughout the entire ordeal, his eyes trained on the spot where Sprout had been. As Harry watched, the Slytherin seemed to remember his surroundings and shook his head rapidly, his usual bored stare replacing what had appeared a look of true shock. Malfoy turned his head and met Harry's eyes without hesitation. The corner of his mouth tilted up in a smirk, and he nodded towards the Gryffindor table.

 _That wasn't it_ , Harry thought worriedly. _That wasn't all_.

Shacklebolt spun abruptly on his heel and stalked over towards the Gryffindor table. Pushing past Harry and Tonks, he bent and almost dragged Hermione out from under the table, and Luna darted forward to help Ginny up. Both Gryffindor girls were glaring, and Hermione was practically _hissing_ at Shacklebolt when he set her on her feet. Ignoring both witches, Shacklebolt turned and gestured to Tonks, who began ushering their small group towards the exit. Shacklebolt walked alongside both Hermione and Ginny, his eyes darting around the room. Only when they were sweeping from the hall, did Dumbledore order professors and prefects to escort the students back to the dormitories.

They made it all the way to their floor without incident. Harry walked along with one hand holding Luna's, the other holding his wand aloft as he glared in every direction. Tonks and Ron were flanking Ginny with Neville and Shacklebolt to Hermione's either side. The only sounds were the muffled footsteps of hundreds of students several floors down, their own harsh breathing from all but running to the seventh floor – and clanging?

Harry skidded to a halt, pulling Luna to a stop with him, and swore loudly as the others froze behind him. Up ahead, a dozen suits of armor stood blocking their path. As he watched, they snapped into formation, their spears pointed forward. Luna spun around as Ron, Shacklebolt and Tonks pushed Hermione and Ginny further toward the middle of the group. The metallic echoes came louder still as back the direction they had come, another dozen suits peeled away from the wall and moved to block their retreat. This batch, too, dropped their spears forward and began moving slowly closer.

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered, "this is worse than the chessmen." Hermione huffed in startled agreement.

The group sprang into action, Ron and Luna spinning back around to deal with the ones ahead, with Tonks joining them, and Shacklebolt and Harry attacking the ones coming up from behind. Neville stood in the middle with Hermione and Ginny, hastily erecting a shield over them as the two Gryffindor witches both fired. With a lasso-like motion, Hermione conjured a large, glowing rope which flung towards the suits and shattered several of them into hundreds of metal shards. Taking a cue from their protege, Shacklebolt and Tonks hastily began firing the same spell. But the pieces rattled in place then slid across the floor, fusing back together to reform, and the Aurors swore angrily. Hermione kept firing spells.

"Get out of here, _now_!" Shacklebolt ordered, glaring at the Gryffindor girls, and Ginny hastily reached for the Portkey pendant around her neck, grabbing Hermione's arm with her other hand.

"Aeternas!" the red-headed witch hissed, her hand clenched around the medallion.

Nothing happened. The metal figures moved closer.

A suit suddenly charged and shoved Shacklebolt aside, flinging him into the wall. His head slammed against stone and he slid down to the floor, Tonks yelling "Oy!" and jumping forward. Ginny let go of Hermione abruptly and turned to the right, raising her wand and spinning to the quickly advancing suit even as Harry moved.

"Bombarda!" Ginny and Harry cried in near-unison, and the suit exploded. Shards of metal flew in every direction and one narrowly missed Harry's throat, another slicing across Ginny's cheek. She recoiled at the sting and held her hand to her face, backing up a step out of sheer reflex. Behind her, Ron and Luna exploded another three suits and took another step back as the remainder advanced closer.

Hermione and Neville had moved off to the side, shooting at the armor approaching from beside them. With a muttered oath, Hermione ducked around Neville's arm where he was trying to hold her back behind him.

"No!" he shouted as a suit grabbed Hermione by the arm. Ginny spun sharply, starting forward as Neville leapt and grabbed the edge of Hermione's robes. The armor glowed a bright blue, there was a sudden flash of light...

And Neville and Hermione vanished from the hallway.

And like flipping a switch, the suits all suddenly froze, then returned to their normal positions on the wall. Harry, Ron and Luna stood staring blankly at the spot where their friends had just been as Tonks swore then rushed to Shacklebolt's side. Ginny collapsed on the floor, tears streaming down her face.

The ruckus of a hundred-plus Gryffindors approached, the students having finally made it off the moving staircases. It was there that the other students found them, Ginny still on the floor, Ron, Harry and Luna still frozen, and Shacklebolt stirring in a pool of his own blood with Tonks trying to rouse him.

Shaking his head to clear it, Harry forced his eyes away from the now-empty spot. He moved over to Ginny as the Gryffindor DA members broke forcefully through the gathering crowd.

"It should have been me," Ginny whispered brokenly. "It should have been me."

* * *

Review if you have something to say.

~*~SA


	4. Chapter 3: The Cleansing Fire

A/N Warning: This chapter will contain graphic violence and sexual assault. If these will be triggers for you, I implore you to stop reading here.

The Paths We Tread

Chapter Three:

The Cleansing Fire

 _Somewhere in England_

 _October 31st, 1996_

They hit the ground with a sharp crack, and Hermione cried out as her head slammed onto a hard stone floor. Beside her, Neville moaned pitifully, and she struggled to reach for him.

"Well well well," crooned a high-pitched voice, "if it isn't widdle baby Nevvy!"

Rough hands grabbed Hermione by her right arm and jerked her up off the floor. She whimpered as her vision greyed on the edges and an arm pressed around her neck. The scent of sandalwood and lemon verbena surrounded her as she was pulled back into a hard chest. Hermione closed her eyes and took a steadying breath.

"Miss me, little one?" Antonin Dolohov whispered, his lips touching her ear, and she shuddered. The Death Eater chuckled and, with his free hand, pushed her hair back over her shoulder, ghosting his lips down the side of her neck. Hermione stood stock still, her pulse racing in her veins, and struggled to breathe as bile rose in her throat.

"You're disgusting, Dolohov," Lucius Malfoy drawled from somewhere to her right, and Hermione felt a sharp stab of hate. "How could you sully yourself with that?"

Dolohov shrugged, and Hermione flinched as he drew her closer into him. "I like them dirty," he said simply, and bit down lightly on her shoulder.

The Malfoy patriarch stepped into Hermione's line of sight as she struggled to steady herself. With a wave of his hand, he gestured to a pair of burly men standing in the shadows – Crabbe and Goyle senior. The larger of the two men hefted Neville up from the floor as Bellatrix Lestrange clapped and giggled her glee. The pair of them quickly left the room, the smaller burly man right behind them with his wand trained on the unconscious teen. Craning her neck around, Hermione watched them go with her heart in her throat.

 _Wake up, Neville!_ she thought urgently.

A sudden cough drew her attention back to her own predicament, and Hermione watched as Lucius Malfoy stepped forward, his elegant cane hanging loosely at his side. "Welcome, Miss Granger," Malfoy said smoothly. He reached into her robes and withdrew her wand, pocketing it with a small smile. The Death Eater holding her began pressing her hips back into his and Hermione trembled as Malfoy moved closer still.

The blond-haired aristocrat reached into her robes again, running his hands lightly down her sides and back up again. The witch shook and jerked back away from him, trying to escape his hands, and Dolohov laughed out loud.

As Malfoy smirked at her, a voice in the back of her mind began screaming. The fingers of her right hand twitched toward her pocket, and the man immediately seized her arm in a vicious grip.

 _Stomp on Dolohov's foot and break his toes,_ her inner voice shouted frantically. _Pull your left arm back and elbow him in the gut! When he doubles over, spin free and slit his throat, and stab Malfoy! You **know** this!_

"Really, Miss Granger," Malfoy drawled. "You must relax. I have more interest in mating with a sow than with you, dear girl." Reaching around her with his free hand, he accepted a long, thin metallic object from Dolohov.

"Were you looking for this?" he asked softly, and all the blood drained from Hermione's face as Malfoy dangled her dagger before her. The aristocrat's face contorted in fury and he twisted her arm in his grip, letting go only when a sharp crack had sounded in the room. Hermione sobbed as pain shot up her arm, and Dolohov kissed her hair and cradled her in his arms like a teddy bear.

"Have your fun, if you must," Malfoy told Dolohov with disgust. "I don't want to see or hear it. If you have need of me, I'll be at the river."

Dolohov just grinned as tears continued to spill from Hermione's eyes, and pressed the tip of his wand beneath her jaw. With one arm, he hefted the small teen and carried her from the room, bringing her down a set of stone stairs. At the base of the stairs, he dropped her abruptly, and Hermione bit back another cry as she hit the floor hard on her knees. A wave of his wand sent her flying across the floor, and she slammed through an open cell door and into a wall. With a grunt of effort, she struggled to her feet and met his gaze.

"Won't be needing those," he said simply, and with a wave of his wand, she was stripped before him.

Antonin Dolohov stepped into the cell, slamming the door behind him, and as Hermione glared at him defiantly, he smiled.

"I love your fire, little one," he rasped. "And I'm going to love putting it out."

He threw his wand back through the bars of her cell, far beyond her reach. With two steps he crossed the cell, picked her up by her broken arm, and slammed her into the wall.

Through the building haze in her mind, she heard Neville begin to scream.

* * *

 _Headmaster's Office_

 _Hogwarts_

 _October 31st, 1996_

 _9:00 PM_

Ron sat silently on the couch in the Headmaster's office, staring blankly at the wall. His sister was on the floor at his feet, practically in Luna's lap as the small blonde girl wrapped herself around Ginny. The Weasley daughter had her head resting on Luna's shoulder and her eyes closed, a tear still slipping out every now and again. Crossing her legs indian-style, Luna wrapped her arms around the red-headed girl and shifted Ginny more fully into her lap, leaning back against Ron's knee to brace them both up. Ron flinched as Ginny let out another gut-wrenching sob and Luna leaned over the girl, whispering softly to her, as Ron turned his attention to the rest of the room.

Harry sat in an armchair across from him, eyes also closed as he muttered something to himself. The black-haired Gryffindor's jaw was clenched, as were his fists, and the air around him fairly crackled with the force of his rage. Behind his desk, Dumbledore watched his protege worriedly. As Ron watched, the headmaster leaned forward and began to speak.

"Harry," the Headmaster said, "you mustn't – "

The door slammed open behind them and everyone in the room jumped - save Harry and Ginny - as Snape swept into the room, McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey at his heels.

"All other students accounted for, Headmaster," Snape reported as he sat in an armchair near the door, Pomfrey crossing to stand behind Harry and squeeze his shoulder in solidarity. "Sinistra is with the Hufflepuffs."

"And McClaggen?" the Headmaster asked sharply, and Harry looked up.

Snape grinned viciously. "Comfortably contained in one of the lower levels," he replied. "The Baron is watching over him."

Ron shuddered despite himself.

"Well," replied Dumbledore, "that will suffice for now. And now that everyone is here…"

"We need to figure out how to get Hermione and Neville back," Harry finished, a low growl in his voice.

"The fact that no other students are missing is actually troubling," McGonagall said worriedly. "If there were someone else missing, it would be obvious who had enchanted the suits of armor. It would give us a place to start."

"That plan was far too simple," Ron mused. "Enchanting the armor to attack? Turning one into a Portkey? It shouldn't have worked. How did they know we'd be there at that time, for starters? And were they just going to take any of us?"

"McClaggen's role was to force us to evacuate the hall, to create the opportunity to get Hermione and Ginny in that hall alone," Tonks said simply. "Would it have taken any of us? Impossible to tell. After a Portkey is used, the residue left behind is minimal. We can't really tell if it was keyed to Hermione and Ginny or not."

Ginny raised her head from Luna's shoulder and pulled herself into a sitting position, swiping at her eyes angrily. "Did anybody else notice that the strongest fighter amongst us is the only one who was taken out?" she asked, gesturing towards Shacklebolt with her free hand. The big auror flinched, his bald head bowed as he sat hunched over, his elbows propped up on his knees and his hands hanging loosely. The raw wound on the side of his head gleamed in the firelight – the Auror-slash-professor had refused any treatment.

"Almost as if the suits had been taught to recognize our faces," Luna added. "Harry had to fight the most of them off aside from Kingsley, and one was reaching for him right as Hermione and Neville vanished."

"Which means this was either a very organized student," Bill said softly, "or not a student at all."

"My money is on a smart student," Ron said with a frown. "The fact that it worked isn't the point. It was – "

"Very unlike the standard Death Eater attack," Snape finished with a grunt, and Ron nodded.

"Which suggests someone new to the Death Eaters, or much younger than most of the other members," Ron concluded.

"But we know nothing about who did this, and we don't have anywhere to start to search," Ron's dad put in. "My guess would be Malfoy Manor, because they seem to always go to Malfoy Manor - but maybe that's exactly why they wouldn't." The balding redhead hunched over and took off his glasses, rubbing at his temples. "Severus, you said that you think Voldemort would want to keep Hermione alive for a time?"

The Potions Master shook his head and Fawkes cried mournfully from Dumbledore's side. As the others in the room stared at him, Tonks and Kingsley shared a miserable glance, and Poppy's hand turned white on Harry's shoulder.

"What?" Harry said hoarsely. "You said that he – hell, I heard him – "

Snape let out a ragged sigh as all eyes turned to him. "Miss Granger was – the curse Dolohov used against her in the Department of Mysteries has not been cured, Mr. Potter. Miss Granger is dying."

A shocked silence filled the room. As Harry and Ron stared at each other, their mouths open, Ron's mum rushed over to gather him up, and Pomfrey started rubbing Harry's shoulders.

"What - what do you mean, she's dying?" Ginny asked in a small, trembling voice. "How?"

Snape sneered, his eyes flashing. "Your puny brain – "

"Severus!" Dumbledore said sharply, and the greasy-haired professor closed his mouth with an audible click.

Beside Tonks, Shacklebolt raised his head from his hands. Meeting Ginny's gaze, he said quietly, "It's difficult to explain, but Dolohov cursed her blood with a poison, and somehow tricked her body into making all her blood that way. Right now, she's being kept alive with a transfusion – "

"A mix of phoenix tears, dragon's blood, and regular human blood, amongst other things," Snape muttered, his nostrils flaring.

" – but it's not a cure," Kingsley continued. "The transfusions are keeping her alive, and giving us time to try to find a cure. But if she stops getting the transfusions – "

" – the poison overtakes her blood," Pomfrey finished dully. "And she will die."

Silence filled the room again as Ginny sobbed into Luna's shoulder. The blonde girl sat with an arm around Ginny, tears dripping from her own eyes. Ron and Harry simply looked empty.

"How long until she has to have the next transfusion?" Harry asked hoarsely.

"Six days," Snape said curtly. He scoffed. "And as we speak, she is trapped with the man who employed the curse to begin with. For all we know, he can change it to make our treatments ineffective!"

Every chair in the room suddenly exploded. Tonks yelped as a shard of wood stabbed into her leg, and Ron pushed his mother back behind him even as Ginny and Luna threw up a shield. Standing in the midst of the wreckage was Harry, his green eyes glowing and a small whirlwind whipping at his form.

"Are you giving up on her, Snape?" he hissed in a quiet scream, and the hairs on the back of Ron's neck stood up.

The Potions Master loomed over Harry menacingly, his eyes flashing. "Giving up on her?" the professor hissed back. "I didn't get her caught, you fool! Fucking Potters, can't protect anyone!"

Lupin's eyes narrowed and Shacklebolt, who had bent down to check Tonks' leg, turned his head slowly towards Snape, an unreadable expression on his face.

"As if you're trying to protect her," Harry said in a low, dangerous voice. "A curse on her blood that you can't cure? Pull the other one, Snape! I bet you know exactly how to fix it, you just need the excuse –"

"How dare you?" the Potions Master thundered, his hands clenching at his sides.

Across the room, Luna said "Harry!" sharply, just as Dumbledore shouted "Enough!" The Headmaster rose behind his desk, his normally twinkling eyes flashing, and Harry stepped back, breathing hard. The potions master snarled under his breath, turned on his heel, and stalked from the room.

Harry looked over at Ron and the girls. "We're moving into the Room of Requirement," he said simply. "If that attack had happened in Gryffindor Tower, how many first years would have been hurt, or killed? At least if we're not rooming there any longer, that's a bit less time we'll be around innocent people."

Ron nodded sharply as his mother opened her mouth and, with a sideways glance from Ron, shut it again with a sigh.

Spinning full-circle, Harry looked at Dumbledore. "Hermione is my sister," he said quietly. "Neville is a very dear friend. Bring them home, Headmaster, or we will."

Every portrait frame in the room rattled as he slammed the door behind himself.

An audible sigh went through the room as the remaining Order members looked at each other in shock. Ron shook his head, shoving his hands into his hair, then turned his head to the side to meet his sister's gaze. Ginny bit her lip then nodded, and with a nudge of Luna's arm, the two girls ran from the room, after Harry.

With the chaperones sent after Harry, to stop him from getting himself into something, Ron turned back to the headmaster and the others of the Order and walked to Pomfrey's side.

"Hermione needs her next transfusion when?" he asked pointedly, and Pomfrey frowned, brushing her hair back from her eyes.

"Six days," she said quietly. "We insisted on doing one last night just – just in case." Her voice broke on the last words and Ron squeezed the matron's shoulder in support.

"So she needs to back here within five days, and in Pomfrey's care," Ron clarified, looking straight at Shacklebolt. The burly Auror nodded, his eyes hooded.

Ron nodded absently. Looking straight at the Headmaster, he spoke without hesitation. "Then you have four days."

His mother choked, and Shacklebolt and Bill both flashed a vicious grin.

The Headmaster stared back at Ron, flummoxed. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Weasley?"

"You heard me," the youngest Weasley son replied. "If your attempts to save them fail, Harry and I will need time to do something. So, you have four days. Your deadline, in case I'm not making myself clear, is noon on Monday. "

McGonagall huffed, looking at the red-headed teen with a cross of worry and annoyance. "Just what, young man, do you think that you and Mr. Potter can do that the Order cannot?"

Ron turned for the door. "Bring them back," he said simply, "or you'll find out."

At the base of the stairs, Ron stopped and leaned against the gargoyle, breathing hard. He balled his shaking hands into fists and closed his eyes. Letting out a shuddering breath, he tilted his head back against the wall and forced back the prickling in his eyes.

 _Hermione, missing, dying, in the hands of Dolohov. Neville, missing. Harry, about to snap. Ginny, breaking down because she was trying to get caught, the stupid bint. He took a deep, steadying breath and opened his eyes. All falls on you, boyo,_ he thought to himself with a sardonic smile. _Maybe you should try to think of something the Order can't do, after all._

Shaking his head, he set off down the stairs.

* * *

 _Room of Requirement_

 _Hogwarts_

 _October 31st, 1996_

 _10:00 PM_

The door opened into a sprawling flat, and Ron Weasley stared from the doorway, his jaw hanging open slightly. A scoff from Ginny had his jaw clicking shut, and he stepped into the flat, his eyes roving around the room.

"Well," he said finally, "I suppose there's not a limit on space in here, is there?"

A huge, sprawling space almost the size of the Gryffindor common room greeted him, with an assortment of squashy bean bags and arm chairs, almost as if it were already set up for a DA meeting. Against a far wall was an alcove filled with books, with a half-dozen small round tables clustered closely together. Straight across from the entrance was a small spiral staircase, and a loft above held six evenly-spaced doors, with a small bathroom tucked in the corner.

Six doors.

Ron's eyes darkened and he closed the door behind him with a snap, crossing over to throw himself into one of the armchairs near the others. Ginny seemed to have calmed somewhat, and so did Harry, but his best mate still had a thunderous expression on his face, and Ginny's face had smoothed into a blank, expressionless mask. The redheaded girl was seated on a long couch with her feet tucked under her, a pillow hugged to her chest, and Harry sat next to her, his elbows propped up on his knees and his hands laced under his chin.

He exchanged a nervous look with Luna, who was curled up on a beanbag across from the couch, then cleared his throat.

"We need to figure out a contingency plan," he said quietly. "I've told Dumbledore they have until noon on Monday. It's now ten pm on Thursday."

"We have to know what we're going to do if they fail," Ginny agreed, her eyes bleak.

Harry scowled.

"They aren't going to leave them there," Ron added, turning to face Harry fully from his armchair by the fire. "They came after all of us in the Ministry, after all. But you know as well as I, Harry, that there are only so many Order members they can risk trying to bring them home."

"Right," Harry said bitterly, "they don't have a prophecy."

Everyone fell silent. The fire crackled in the darkness and Harry sighed. "Okay, so, planning. Anyone think they aren't at Malfoy Manor?"

Ron shook his head.

"Where is Malfoy Manor, anyway?" Harry asked, and Luna finally spoke up.

"Wiltshire," she said softly. "They were the lords over a small farming community when they first came over from France. They've absorbed all the land around them since."

"So there's nothing nearby that they don't own," Ron put in. "No small town nearby, no well-travelled road on which we won't be spotted."

Harry let out another heavy sigh. "Okay," he said again. "Lucky they canceled classes for tomorrow. Luna, Ginny, the both of you figure out a way to get us into that Manor. Look into the wardings and defenses old families use. You might be able to find something in the Black Library."

Luna and Ginny nodded.

"That leaves us looking into some more painful spells," Ron said with a vicious grin, and Harry met his eyes.

Dolohov would die, slowly.

"This would go a lot faster if we had more help," Ginny said quietly. "Maybe Bill or – "

"No," Harry shot down immediately. "If we end up having to act in a way Dumbledore forbids, I don't want Bill caught in the middle. Let's let him have some plausible deniability."

"He's your guardian now, Harry," Ginny replied gently. "Or he soon will be. He would side with you, regardless."

Harry just shook his head, and Ginny sighed.

"No," Ron said, a small smile forming on his face. "Get the books and just bring them back here."

The others just looked at him.

"You'll see tomorrow," he promised, and the girls and Harry just looked at him with narrowed eyes before shrugging.

"We'll head there after we iron out some more details," Ginny agreed. "But first off – you do all realize we can't actually live in the Room of Requirement?"

"Why not?" Ron asked, his brow furrowed. "It'll be this apartment when we need, the meeting room the rest of the time. This is great."

"And if someone else knows about it, and we come back one night and can't get in, because they've changed the room and are inside?" Ginny asked pointedly, looking back and forth between the boys.

Ron scowled again, and Harry nodded.

"It was the first place I thought of," he explained, shrugging. He leaned back in his chair and frowned, glancing over at Luna thoughtfully. "From a security standpoint, the Chamber would probably work better."

"We're already training there," Ginny agreed, and Ron sighed.

"This is so much more comfortable," he complained without heat, and Luna smiled sadly.

"I don't think we should get used to being comfortable," she said sagely, and a solemn air fell over the group once more.

"I can't believe she didn't tell us," Ginny whispered sadly, and Ron flinched.

"I can," Harry said quietly. "She wouldn't want us to act this way."

"Right," Ron muttered, "so we bring them home, then we treat her no different than usual once she's back on her feet, yeah?"

"Easier said than done," sighed Ginny, and the others nodded.

"There is something else we need to discuss," Luna said softly, and Harry and Ron looked at her with a frown. "We need to start thinking of contingency plans."

"What? What for?" Harry asked confusedly, brow furrowed. On the couch beside him, Ginny sat up fully, eyeing Luna questioningly.

Ron rubbed his hands on his face and sighed as Luna just tilted her head and looked at him.

"For when we part ways with the Order," he said simply, and Luna nodded.

Silence filled the room.

* * *

 _Slytherin's Fortress_

 _Somewhere near Inverness_

 _Scotland_

 _November 1st, 1996_

 _10:00 AM_

Harry stepped through the doorway on Bill's heels, eyes narrowed and wand draw in front of him. He drew in an unsteady breath and immediately began hacking, eyes stinging with tears as century-old dust filled his lungs.

"Well," Shacklebolt said simply, "that builds a strong case for no one having been here in a while."

Harry stared at the Auror with a scowl on his face, and Ron bit back a laugh. Stepping through the doorway behind his friend, he cast a BubbleHead Charm around himself, only to earn a glare from Harry himself.

"You should have thought of that, mate," Ron said simply, and Harry scowled as Bill clapped him on the shoulder.

The Potter heir turned away from them all and looked off into the darkness. As Bill and Shacklebolt began checking the surrounding area for traps, Harry's mind wandered back to the long conversation from the night before.

He, Ron, Ginny and Luna had sat around the fire until nearly 3 am, talking and strategising and planning. While he'd been shocked at first by what Ron and Luna had said, he had to admit, they had made sense.

"Look, there's a lot that could be happening behind the scenes," said Ron, leaning forward with a serious frown. "But the fact is, as far as we can tell, the Order is being reactive, right? If that's really what's happening, how's that going to work?"

"We have to be attacking, not defending, sometimes, at least," Luna added. "So maybe – maybe we won't be able to follow the Order's direction all the way through the war."

"It won't hurt," Ginny had nodded in agreement a while later, "to at least have somewhere picked out and set up, to go to in case we need it."

They had gone round and round on the issue for hours, only to cycle back to the initial statement. There was a lot that the Order was likely doing that they didn't know about. But just in case, it wouldn't hurt to have another place to set up shop as a back-up. _And after all, if the Order's current headquarters were compromised,_ Harry rationalised to himself, _they could always come here._

"Clear," Bill said finally, and Harry started and shook himself, following after the others with a funny look from Ron.

The Slytherin Fortress was an old, sprawling stone building, built in the style of tenth-century feudal lord dwellings. It was set back in the woods outside of Inverness, not far from the Farr Loch. Harry had messaged Bill early that morning, when the group of friends had agreed to at least investigate the building. The eldest Weasley son had met with Shacklebolt and they had set off to investigate the land and check for booby-traps. By nine-thirty, the pair had returned and retrieved the Gryffindor boys, Ginny and Luna begging off to stay with the books.

Harry wasn't quite sure why the cursebreaker and the Auror had agreed to do this so suddenly. Maybe, he thought, they were just hoping to keep Harry and Ron busy and distracted.

 _As if either of us would stop worrying about Hermione and Neville,_ he scoffed.

A nudge in the shoulder from Ron brought him back to the present again, and he looked up to see Bill and Shacklebolt looking at him expectantly. As he watched, Bill cleared his throat and spoke again.

"I asked, do you want to check out the ground floor first? Split up and cover more ground?"

Harry looked at Ron and shrugged, nodding when his friend nodded back at him. "Sure," Harry said simply.

"Great," Bill said quietly, looking at Harry with a tinge of sadness in his eyes. He wants to talk, Harry thought frantically. He adored his new guardian, he truly did, but Harry did not want to talk about his feelings today. "Ron, why don't you go with – "

"Bill, so the two of you can catch up," Harry cut in quickly. "Shacklebolt, there's something I wanted to ask you about anyways."

Bill shot him a knowing look, one that promised retribution later, but the cursebreaker gestured to his younger brother and led him off to the right without protest. Harry watched them go without a word, then turned and met the steady, silent gaze of Shacklebolt.

"That was subtle," the Auror said in his low, deep voice, and Harry scowled.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he shrugged. "I want to see what's in here, anyway, so let's have a look around."

Shacklebolt watched him for a moment longer then nodded. "Bill and I did a sweep of the property, but hadn't ventured inside yet," the Auror explained. "We checked the lobby while you were – wool-gathering, but the rooms may still have curses on them."

"Stay at the ready, got it," Harry agreed. "Shall we?" And without waiting for a reply, he stalked off for the hallway.

The Auror sighed, quickly following after his charge. "So what do we really know about this building?" he asked as they turned a corner and came to a set of large double doors.

The Potter heir looked back over his shoulder as they reached the doors. "Built in the late tenth century, supposedly right before Hogwarts was built. The other founders were going to use this as a location for the school, but Gryffindor and Hufflepuff felt that the ley lines on Hogwarts grounds had a more – peaceful power to them."

Harry stepped back and let Shacklebolt push the doors open ahead of him, both with their wands at the ready. As the Auror checked the entrance of the room, he glanced back at Harry with a nod for the boy to continue. Harry cleared his throat. "In Slytherin's journals, he says that he and Ravenclaw both felt a strange, heavy kind of energy here. Like something ancient and dark was in the air. Which was, of course, why Slytherin preferred the area. He leaned heavily towards what we now call Dark Magics; blood magic, mind magic, all the truly ancient lore. For Ravenclaw, he wrote that she was always too curious for her own good." The Potter heir cut a glance at Shacklebolt at this. "He wrote of her as if they were in some sort of strange relationship, to be honest. It was a bit alarming, some of it, once I got it translated."

Shacklebolt grunted as he pushed the double-doors open fully, the entrance now cleared, and stepped into a large library.

"Slytherin's journals stop not long after he left Hogwarts," Harry added. "But he came here often while they were running the school, and he fled here after he and Gryffindor parted ways. The last thing he had written was something about a ritual he was planning to try – no explanation. He always just called it 'the spell.'" Harry bit his lip and frowned. "He talked about it, often."

Shacklebolt was silent as Harry stopped speaking. Suddenly, the teen wizard seemed to realize what room they were standing in, and he visibly deflated. Walking carefully around the crumbling old chairs and couches that littered the room, Harry crossed to the large bookshelves that lined the walls, staring at the books with a sad smile.

"Hermione would love this place," he whispered. Stiffening, he turned to Shacklebolt and said with a hard edge, "Hermione will love this place."

The Auror shot him an understanding look. "We will get them back, Harry," he promised, his voice low and mournful. "Dumbledore and Mad-Eye are working on it."

"Either they will," Harry agreed. "Or we will." With a deep, tired sigh, he shoved his hair back from his eyes then muttered, "Come on, let's finish checking this room before we move on."

* * *

 _Room of Requirement_

 _Hogwarts_

 _November 1st, 1996_

 _10:30 AM_

"Thanks for coming, everyone," Ginny said calmly, tucking her feet under herself as she settled back on the sofa. Scattered around the room, the assembled contingent of the DA looked back at her in silence. "We've asked you here for a favor."

"All of you know by now that Hermione and Neville were kidnapped last night," Luna continued softly. "Right now, there are people attempting their rescue, but we need a back-up plan. We need your help."

Sue Bones and Ernie MacMillan looked back at her steadily, with Hannah Abbott and Justin Finch-Fletchley seated next to them scowling. All around them, the remaining DA members glanced at each other uncertainly, and Ginny forced back a scowl of her own.

"We think we know where they are being held," Ginny explained, "and in the case of the rescue attempt failing, we need to be ready to move. But we need to be able to get inside the building, and we have reason to believe it will be protected by some massive warding."

"So you want us to help research ways to break old wards?" Padma questioned with a furrowed brow, and beside her, Parvati made a face.

"Some nasty spells would be nice, too," Ginny replied with a vicious grin, "but yes, there's simply too much material to get through on our own and we don't have the time."

Sue frowned. "So this isn't about fighting back at all?"

The others murmured their agreement, and Ginny and Luna shared a worried glance.

"You all know how Harry is about putting others at risk," Ginny said finally. "I doubt he'd agree to let any of you come along, and we could never ask that of you, anyway. But if we can't figure out how to get past any wards, we can't save them."

Muttering began again among the group, but finally, Justin made a face and said, "Look, in a rescue mission if you're trying to sneak in and out, the more people, the higher chances of getting caught. A smaller group is safer and more likely to be successful." He eyed Ginny steadily, his face a contemplative mask. "Where do you think they're being held?" he asked, and Ginny hesitated.

"If we know," Michael Corner pointed out, "it might help narrow down what types of wards to look into."

"Malfoy Manor," Luna whispered, and the room froze.

An angry snarl erupted to the right of the room, and everyone jumped when Seamus slammed his chair into the wall. "Right!" he shouted. "We go get Malfoy, drag his pasty arse up here, and force him to tell us about the – "

"He's not here," a voice cut in, and Ginny spun in her seat as everyone gaped at the door. Blaise Zabini stepped into the room, Parkinson and Greengrass behind him. As Ginny and Luna stared at him, every other wand in the room was leveled on the Slytherin trio.

Ignoring the other students, Zabini looked straight at Ginny. "Draco was summoned home last night, around ten o'clock. And we haven't heard from him."

* * *

 _Headmaster's Office_

 _Hogwarts_

 _November 1st, 1996_

 _3:00 PM_

"They're definitely at Malfoy Manor," Moody grunted, raising his peg leg to rest on the ottoman. With a tired sigh, he leaned back and swiveled his glass eye behind him to watch the door as he stared at Dumbledore with the other. "I had Vance stationed nearby all night, and she saw Dolohov go in and out a couple times. Goyle, too."

The Headmaster let out a heavy sigh. "Any sightings of – "

"Snake Face?" Moody asked. "No. Dawlish relieved Vance this morning at about eight, and he hasn't seen any sign of Voldemort either." With a scowl, he rubbed one hand over his face. "We need to move tonight, Albus."

"It's too risky," Dumbledore shot down immediately, no twinkle in his bright blue eyes. "If something goes wrong – "

" – the kids will go storming in after them, so we best just get this done," Moody cut him off. "That weren't no idle threat, Albus. The Weasley lad meant it. Better we take the risk than them."

Dumbledore sighed, steepling his hands before his chin as he stared blankly at the wall. "I had hoped to protect them from all this," he whispered. "Instead, I've helped to make them hard."

"Better this than dead," Moody said pragmatically. "They were in danger anyway; trying to protect their innocence would just get more of them dead faster."

Dumbledore grunted and shook his head. Behind him, a small silver instrument began pouring smoke into the room, unnoticed by either of the men.

"Who will you take with you?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Vance. Dawlish. The two eldest Weasley sons."

"Not Kingsley or Nymphadora?" Dumbledore questioned, and Moody shook his head.

"Better to keep them in place to defend the school, if need be," the grizzly old Auror replied, and Fawkes let out a sudden sharp cry. With a quiet cough, Mad-Eye said, "Five of us is plenty. Too many, even, but I don't want either of the Weasley lads without an Auror companion, so..."

"When – " Dumbledore began, and Fawkes suddenly shot up from his perch, flying dangerously close to his companion. The Headmaster's beard sprung tiny little fires as Fawkes let out a loud warble and vanished from the room in a flash of flames.

"What the – ?" Moody shot to his feet, wand out, as Dumbledore slowly stood, spinning to look at the shelf behind his desk. The little silver, spindle-like instrument was whirling madly, smoke puffing out with every turn. Slowly, the smoke condensed into an image – a clock tower.

Fawkes shrieked again as he reappeared in the center of the room, a panting Kingsley Shacklebolt holding tightly to his tail. Held in his grip was Harry Potter, blood pouring down his face and eyes screwed tightly shut. The pair crumbled, Shacklebolt pitching forward sharply and hitting his knees, but he managed to keep the Potter heir cradled to his chest. Dumbledore rushed forward to take Harry from him as Moody moved to help the Auror to his feet. Behind them, Fawkes let out another mournful cry and disappeared again, flashing back into the room only moments later with Bill and Ron Weasley.

"What happened?" Moody demanded as Bill rushed forward to help Dumbledore settle Harry on a couch.

"He just started having a fit," Shacklebolt replied. "We were going through the greenhouse at the Fortress, and suddenly he grabbed his forehead and started shouting. He had another magical outburst," the Auror added, "shattered the glass around us and knocked me clear over. When I got to my feet, he was on the ground with blood coming out of his scar."

Moody scowled as he looked over at the teen wizard, and Ron settled on the couch next to his friend. "You just had a concussion last night, boy, be careful!" the old Auror barked, and Shacklebolt shrugged.

Crossing the room to crouch next to the couch, he watched as Bill Weasley rubbed an ointment over Harry's scar. "Potter," Shacklebolt said softly. "What is happening?"

Harry Potter forced his eyes open, blinking away the quickly pooling blood from his forehead. "London," he croaked, and Moody's blood ran cold.

* * *

 _Bank of the Thames_

 _London, England_

 _November 1st, 1996_

 _3:00 PM_

Lord Voldemort stood on the street, his black robes swirling the the slight wind. He looked calmly across the way at the large clock tower, a satisfied smile curling his lips.

"And you're certain, all the Muggles will see this?" he asked Malfoy again, and Malfoy smirked.

"The Muggles have invented a form of camera, My Lord, that allows them to show the pictures in real-time on thousands of other screens. They aren't dissimilar to Omnioculars," Malfoy explained. "Every Muggle in London will see what happens here today."

The Dark Lord smiled. "Then begin."

Lucius Malfoy smirked, turning on his heel to face the others arrayed behind him. With a nod to Rodolphus, the dozen-odd Death Eaters spread along the street, their wands all raised and pointed towards the clock tower.

"Morsmordre!" they cried together, and a dozen green skulls flew out of their wands and shot out to the tower. As Malfoy watched, the dozen small skulls fused together, forming into one large green skull. All along the street, people stopped and pointed, exclaiming in confusion or delight at the large pyrotechnic.

Voldemort, standing back behind Malfoy slightly, stepped forward and into line of sight. He flicked his wand lazily at the skull, and its mouth widened, green sparks flying out of it in every direction. The sparks shot down from the skull, raining down into the street, and everywhere they hit the ground, the stones cracked.

Bystanders were screaming, running and pushing each other as the green sparks slammed down on the terrified Muggles and nearly vaporized their skin. The Dark Lord laughed in delight as the smell of burning flesh filled the air, and Malfoy felt his lips twitch.

"Now!" Voldemort yelled, his high voice ringing with laughter, and Malfoy spun on his heel and disappeared. The Death Eater reappeared on a barge in the River Thames, scowling as Bellatrix reached out a hand to steady him when he stumbled on a rope. Nearby, Rabastan was pulling the rest of that rope up from the water.

Without a word spoken, the two Death Eaters stepped to the edge of the barge, where Lestrange had, the night before, lowered cage after cage to the bottom. They raised their wands and, looking down into the water, called the last words to activate the curse.

"Inferi Animus!" the pair of Death Eaters cried, and they watched with bated breath as twin jets of ice blue light shot down into the water.

The water's surface began to bubble, and Bellatrix let out a breathy sigh. Malfoy grinned at his sister-in-law and reached out a hand to pull her back from the edge as the water began to form choppy waves. A dull, eerie sound began to echo from the depths and they watched impatiently.

A bony hand broke through the water, then another, and Malfoy smiled.

* * *

 _Bank of the Thames_

 _London, England_

 _November 1st, 1996_

 _3:15 PM_

Bill Weasley hit the ground running.

Tearing off from Dumbledore and the others, the cursebreaker sprinted off into the streets, his wand slashing left and right and shooting balls of flame in every direction. The screams and snarls echoed around him as the Inferi swarmed the streets, and in the back of his mind, a voice screamed in horror.

He squashed that voice ruthlessly, cutting down another Inferius as it pinned down a young brunette woman on the curb. The woman screamed even louder as her face was singed by the flames, and Bill paused a moment to push the now-still corpse off her body before racing off without a word. He dove through the crowds, pushing living people aside as he dove after first one zombie-like creature then another. Around him, green sparks shot down from the sky, and one hit the ground right next to his boot, splitting the stones. He jumped over the widening crack in the ground and kept running, a lasso of flame shooting out of his wand over and over again.

Off to his right somewhere, he heard Tonks shout, and he spun sharply in the direction of her voice, his eyes narrowed. Behind him, someone shouted "Look out!" and he jerked forward just as a creature clamped its bony hand down on his shoulder. His fang earring tore from his earlobe and he winced, and with a sharp kick behind himself, he sent the Inferius flying.

A quick flame spell over his shoulder took out the offending creature, and he spun to see a small blonde woman give him a quick nod before running to a nearby red Ford Anglia and diving inside. As he watched, she slammed the doors behind herself and hunkered down in the driver's seat. Moody, a few feet away, shot the girl an approving grin.

With a tired sigh, he spun again and raced off in the direction Tonks had called from. Blood was pouring down the side of his neck from his now-split earlobe and he dodged and weaved through the crowd of Muggles and Inferi alike, finally spotting the lime-green spiked hair through the chaos. As he watched, Tonks weaved in place, swarmed by several of the corpses, and then went down.

He lowered his head and raced forward, jumping onto the roof of a car and then from one roof to the next, reaching the fifth car and diving off, rolling to his feet to the left of his colleague. Tonks was still struggling frantically, with four of the things hovering over her and trying to pin her down as she kicked and clawed back. With a roar, she shoved her fist through the face of the one closest her throat, and the corpse recoiled with a shriek of horror. Tonks pushed herself upright as Bill straightened –

"Down!" he yelled, and Tonks went flat on the ground, a whoosh of flames passing right over her, less than a centimeter from her nose. The Inferi over her screamed and collapsed in a pile of ashes, and Bill ran forward and grabbed Tonks' forearm, pulling her to her feet. The Auror immediately spun to face opposite him, and at a gesture from Bill, they both climbed up onto the roof of cars again.

Off nearest to the river bank, he could see his father and McGonagall, ushering people across the street and rushing them into a large stone building, where Vance and Charlie stood guarding the doors from approaching corpses. The live people on the street still numbered in the hundreds, the Inferi at least twice as strong. With narrowed eyes, he scanned the crowds for the Muggles in immediate danger, freezing when his eyes fell on a single, stationary form.

Across the sea of corpses and Muggles, Voldemort's red eyes peered back at him, and Bill cringed as a sudden pressure began to build in his skull. He gasped and his eyes started watering, his ears ringing, and as he watched, Voldemort smiled. A voice began to whisper in his mind and Bill's arm shook as he fought –

Voldemort just watched him, smiling, and with a sudden jerk, Bill's arm came up and his wand pointed at the bottom of his own jaw. The cursebreaker stared steadily at Voldemort, his arm still shaking, his eyes still stinging, and clenched his teeth, as Tonks spun to stare at him. Opening his mouth, as a voice in the back of his mind started screaming, Bill whispered, "Avada – "

A sudden shout, and a blur of green, and Bill fell from the roof of the car and crumpled to the ground, Tonks leaning over him.

* * *

 _Bank of the Thames_

 _London, England_

 _November 1st, 1996_

 _3:45 PM_

Albus Dumbledore bit back a curse as he saw William and Nymphadora tumble off the auto's roof. Hands held steadily in front of him, he chanted under his breath, again and again, and wave after wave of Inferi fell to the flames. The area just ahead was blessedly clear of bystanders, thanks to Arthur and Minerva's quick work, but further ahead –

He watched as Kingsley raced across the way, vaulting autos, corpses and debris in the street and skidding to a halt next to his partner and William. As the burly Auror knelt beside the pair, Albus looked around himself with a pained sigh.

There was no salvaging this situation, he knew. Time for something drastic.

To his far left, Tom turned to face him, red eyes shining through the dust-filled air.

Pointing his wand at his own throat, Dumbledore thundered, "Everybody down!"

Arthur and Minerva hit the ground, every nearby Muggle doing the same out of pure shock. Across the way, Kingsley summoned a convertible automobile, turning it upside down over himself, Tonks and William so they were crouched beneath the open top.

"Reinging vlam!" the Headmaster screamed, whipping his wand around his head in a circle. Above his head, a maelstrom of flames appeared, swirling wider and wider as if around the eye of a hurricane. With a flick of his wand, the maelstrom split in half, then in fourths, over and over until dozens of the little firestorms were hovering over his head. Dumbledore lowered his wand straight ahead of himself and spun in a three-sixty circle, the maelstroms shooting off in every direction. They shot through the Inferi like flying saws, the corpses screaming as they burst into flames.

Dumbledore stood there, panting, wand still raised before him, and watched as the little firestorms continued to split off from each other, tearing through the London sky until every Inferi fell. Finally, the horrible rattling screams and groans silenced, and Dumbledore raised his left hand to his shoulder-level, with his wand still held in the right, and slowly closed his fist. The maelstroms shook and shimmered, then imploded in little puffs of smoke.

Suddenly everything was blurry. Dumbledore shook his head to clear it, drawing in a gasping breath. He stumbled, his knees buckling –

And Arthur caught him, the balding redhead holding him up and setting him back on his feet. Taking another shuddering breath, Dumbledore shook his head once more, letting out a sigh of relief when it stopped swimming. He raised his head and looked around himself at the chaos.

There were bodies strewn everywhere, most of them with gaping wounds or outright ripped open. The smell of blood and excrement and grime was so strong in the air that each breath had the sickeningly sweet stench of death. Everyone still alive was moving – some stumbling to their feet alone or with the help of those nearby, others rushing to pull people from the wreckage. As he watched, a pair of Muggle teens ran over to his Deputy and, with gentle hands, helped pull Minerva to her feet. She smiled slightly at the teen boys, leaning heavily against the taller boy's shoulder for a moment, before straightening and limping over to stand with Albus and Arthur. Alastor stood in the center of a ring of corpses, his robes torn and bloodstained.

Across the way, a group of near a dozen survivors were gathered around the convertible under which Kingsley and the others were trapped, working together to lift the car off the small group. Green sparks still rained down from the sky, splitting the ground, and people jumped quickly to the side to dodge them every few moments.

Charles and Emmeline were still peering around suspiciously, blocking the doorway of the large building in which they had sequestered all those they were able to get off the streets. And through the muted mutterings of the survivors, a sudden, sharp sound echoed.

Voldemort moved forward, his robes swirling in an invisible wind, clapping mockingly with his eyes fixed on Dumbledore's face. As the Headmaster watched, a dozen Death Eaters suddenly appeared behind the 'man,' their wands pointed straight ahead of them.

Arthur Weasley moved, stepping in front of Dumbledore with a challenging look on his face, and as Tonks limped out from under the convertible to their right, he stepped forward with narrowed eyes.

Voldemort just chuckled.

"Look around you, Muggles!" he cried to the crowd. "This is what happens when you fight against us! Magic is Might, and hundreds of you have died on this day. Think on that, and when next we meet, be ready to bend the knee!"

And Voldemort looked at Arthur Weasley, and at the still-shaken Dumbledore, and smiled.

"Until next time, Dumbledore," he breathed.

And they disappeared.

Albus Dumbledore let out another shaky breath as Arthur swore loudly. Turning towards the Tower, Albus raised his wand again and with his left hand held up, palm flat, he closed his eyes and pushed with all his strength towards the abomination in the sky. Gradually, the green sparks slowed, then stopped falling altogether, and he heard a collective sigh of relief around him. A sudden surge pushed back at him, and his eyes shot open –

The Dark Mark was moving, the snake slithering down the Clock Tower. As he watched in horror, the green flames wrapped around the tower and squeezed, and the building began to crumble. People in the streets ran again, screaming, and Albus's vision began to grey. His knees buckled yet again and he heard Arthur and Minerva yell his name –

And darkness swallowed him.

* * *

Review if you have something to say. Special thanks to my new very-own beta, Otium!

~*~SA


	5. Chapter 4: The Tumult and the Shouting

**A/N: I absolutely recommend moving 2,000 miles across country, and starting a MUCH more demanding job, right before Christmas. Seriously. It's the best way to throw off every plan you've ever had. Sorry about the impromptu hiatus, will endeavor to NOT do that again.**

 **~*~SA**

 **The Paths We Tread**

Chapter Four:

The Tumult and the Shouting

 _Hospital Wing_

 _Hogwarts_

 _November 1st, 1996_

 _7:00 PM_

Dora stood to the right of the double-doors, her back against the wall, and stared blankly around the wing. To the left was Shack, his eyes hard and his face expressionless, standing still as a statue.

Throughout the wing, the beds were filled with bleeding and battered bodies, some she knew, some she didn't. As she watched, Pomfrey and Luna skittered around the ward, Penelope Clearwater hovering nearby handing out vials. The Healer trainee had been called by Flitwick soon after the others had returned from London. As Pomfrey and her apprentice rushed from bed to bed, healing the most extreme injuries, Clearwater followed behind, distributing pain potions, bruise balms, and blood replenishers. An eerie silence echoed through the wing, and Tonks let her eyes rove over the faces she knew.

Straight across and three beds down lay Harry, in his "normal" bed, his face drawn and pale. The blood had been cleaned from his scar more than once, but it had only recently stopped welling up. The teen wizard was still unconscious, twitching every so often in his sleep. Ginny and Ron sat at his side, the female Weasley holding his hand tightly between both of hers, and Luna shot him worried looks now and again.

In the bed beside him lay Bill, his breathing slow and even, and Fleur sat perched on the side of his bed, running her fingers through his hair. The eldest Weasley son had yet to wake, and his mother swept into the wing as Tonks watched, exclaiming her worry loudly as she rushed to Bill's side. Something flickered on Fleur's face, and Charlie and Ron both grimaced and exchanged a worried glance.

In the center of the room, surrounded on both sides by bleeding and unconscious bodies, was Albus Dumbledore. The Headmaster was still and pale beneath the sheets, his eyes rolling in his head every so often. Nobody knew why he wouldn't wake – the spell he had used to fell the last Inferi had clearly taken a lot out of him, yet wasn't this _the_ Albus Dumbledore? Tonks shook her head in confusion, biting her lip as she stared at her bedridden leader.

A sudden bang echoed through the room, and Tonks and Shack spun quickly to see Mad-Eye and Minerva stride into the room, Arthur following closely behind. As she watched, Arthur's eyes lingered over Harry and Bill before the Weasley patriarch moved to Dumbledore's side.

"No change?" he asked Pomfrey sharply, and the Matron shook her head.

"He's not shaking anymore," she said softly, her eyes bright with worry, "but he hasn't even begun to stir."

"If William were awake," Mad-Eye growled, his glass eye rolling back in his head, "he could probably work out what was in that Dark Mark that did this."

Kingsley, straightening by the door, shot his mentor a look. "You think it was the Mark?"

Mad-Eye scowled as Ron and Ginny looked over at them questioningly. "The last spell he did was high sorcery, boy, no easy feat, but it's not enough to knock ruddy Albus off his feet. Aye, there was something in that Mark."

"The Tower was leveled, wasn't it?" a voice asked softly, and everyone spun to see Harry pushing himself up on his elbows. Luna shot to her feet from a young woman's bedside, turning to watch Harry's face worriedly.

The Boy-Who-Lived had pushed into a near-sitting position, Ron moving quickly to brace his friend. As Tonks watched, his eyes lingered on first Bill's bed, then Dumbledore's, before he turned his face back to look at Moody again. The Auror turned slightly to see Harry's face, and cringed at the look in his eyes.

"Yes," Moody answered simply, and Harry nodded. "We think it was something in the Mark – "

With a tired sigh, Harry spun on the bed and climbed unsteadily to his feet. Moody's voice trailed off as everybody watched the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry only shook his head. "I know what spell he used," he said softly, and Moody raised one bushy eyebrow. Turning slightly, Harry shared a dark look with Ron. "He has one of Slytherin's journals."

" _What_?" Moody and Arthur hissed in near-unison, and everybody else froze. Harry just sighed tiredly again, grabbing his dusty denim jacket from the bedpost and shrugging it on.

"One of Slytherin's journals mentioned a spell that could do that – use a hologram for a weapon, essentially," Harry explained. "But it didn't describe how. And I haven't found the instructions in any of the books we have."

"But clearly, You-Know – _Voldemort_ ," Ron finished with a scowl, "has."

Harry just nodded. His eyes darkened and he turned to look at Luna, who was watching him sadly. Tearing his gaze from the blonde young woman, he glanced over at Bill, lying still and pale.

"How much has he taught you?" Arthur asked quietly, his eyes solemn as he looked back and forth between Harry and his eldest.

Harry looked up, quirked his eyebrow at Arthur, and smiled grimly. "Enough. The memory gave me information to go on." Turning sharply, he made for the door.

As Tonks watched, Fleur leaned over Bill, kissed his brow, and stood.

"I 'ave 'elped Beel wit' 'is researc' often," Fleur said throatily. "I can 'elp." She moved to follow Harry with a quick glance at Molly, who settled in at her son's side, still clutching at his limp hand. As Harry paused in the doorway, Luna gave him a questioning look, and he shook his head.

"Help Pomfrey," he said simply, giving Luna a sad smile, and the girl nodded. Without another word, he and Fleur swept from the room.

Shaking his head, Ron turned to Ginny. "Want to go find something to hit?" he asked roughly, and

Ginny shot him a vicious smile. She skirted around Harry's abandoned bed, bent and kissed Bill on the cheek, and preceded her brother from the room.

With a somber expression on her face, Luna turned back to the nearest hospital bed. Pomfrey clasped the young woman's shoulder and smiled at her softly, and Luna just frowned as they bent over their patient.

"Good," Moody growled, stomping over towards Tonks and Kingsley. "The kids are all occupied, now it's time to talk strategy. Charles, get Vance and check on Dawlish. Let them know we move _tonight._ "

Charlie straightened up and rubbed his hand over his jaw as his mother watched him worriedly. He met Tonks' eyes with a wry smile and nodded sharply to Moody, walking quickly from the room.

"Arthur," Moody said to the Weasley Patriarch, "reach out to your contact. Double-check the wanna-be lord's whereabouts and make sure they haven't added to the defenses since we got back from London."

Mr. Weasley nodded and followed his son out of the wing.

"Alastor," Minerva spoke up hesitantly, "perhaps this – "

"What?" Moody growled, spinning on his peg-leg to stare at the professor. "This should wait? Until _when_?"

Minerva just stared flatly at the Auror.

"The girl doesn't have much time left, according to Snape," Moody continued, his glass eye pointing straight ahead and fixed on the Gryffindor head. "Shack, was Snape lying?"

"No, sir," Tonks' partner replied, and Minerva flinched.

"So when, exactly, would be a better time?" Moody asked McGonagall in a low whisper, and the Deputy Headmistress scowled back at him, a sudden glint in her eye.

"I would never suggest leaving them there!" she hissed back, her hair suddenly crackling. "I'm simply saying that all of us just came from a fight, and haven't had any rest! What good are we to Hermione and Neville if we get ourselves killed?"

Moody just stood there, staring at McGonagall beedily as Tonks shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. After several tense moments, the ex-Auror finally sighed. Raising his wand and pointing it towards the door, he murmured "Expecto Patronum," under his breath, and a silvery armadillo shot out the door and down the hallway.

Turning to Tonks and Kingsley, he said simply, "Guard duty. Dora, I want you patrolling the castle. Disguise yourself as a prefect. Shack, stay on the wing until Dumbledore wakes or I come fetch you, you hear?" Swinging his peg-leg around with a huff, he muttered, "Fine, Minerva, I'll take a damned _nap._ We reconvene at ten pm!"

And with one last snarl, he _thunked_ his way from the Hospital Wing.

Tonks glanced over at Shack, who gave her an uncertain look and a shrug, before turning to McGonagall. The Transfigurations professor was watching the door to the Hospital Wing with a solemn air, her eyes shadowed. Tonks cleared her throat quietly and the professor startled, swinging around to face her younger colleagues.

With an apologetic frown, McGonagall shook her head. "Annabelle Morton. Seventh year, Hufflepuff. I have it on good authority that she has sneaked out to see Mr. Wood again." Her lip quirked slightly upward and she turned sharply, moving across the wing to sit at Dumbledore's bedside.

Tonks smirked and nodded, quickly changing her appearance to match the curly redheaded seventh year girl in her classes. With a quick wave of her wand, her clothing became a 'Puff girl's uniform, and, shooting one last worried glance at Dumbledore and Bill, she slipped from the room.

Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw Kingsley lean his head back against the wall and close his eyes.

 _Easy, Shack_ , she thought worriedly, and with a frown, she turned her mind to her task.

* * *

 _Malfoy Manor_

 _Wiltshire, England_

 _November 1st, 1996_

 _7:30 PM_

Hermione knelt in the center of the stone floor, her eyes fixed on the metal bars in front of her. Tremors ran through her arms and legs, making her jerk in place, and she flinched as each tremor jarred her aching body. Cold sweat dripped down her brow and into her eyes, stinging as it ran through a long cut on her cheek. Her breath turned to cold smoke before her eyes, and the hairs on her neck stood straight on end.

There was a pillow and a scratchy blanket on the floor behind her, and a bucket in the corner as a makeshift toilet.

She had now been in this room for twenty-four hours, and she had been alone for barely six of it.

With sheer will power, she forced her mind to stay blank, her eyes to remain open and on the bars. Neville's screams had long since tapered off, his voice raw and hoarse in the end. Bellatrix, she thought darkly, had even better endurance than Dolohov.

The hooded eyes flashed through her mind, the raspy voice, and she swallowed back bile. Blinking her eyes rapidly against the burn – the burn that always happened when she _needed_ to cry, but the tears wouldn't come – she shifted slightly in place and continued staring towards the door.

A sudden sound broke the silence, and Hermione stiffened. Footsteps.

... _different_ footsteps, she realized suddenly, having become acquainted with Dolohov's footfalls very quickly. She stifled the urge to grab the blanket – if she hid herself, they would probably just take it away – and instead remained in place, her bruised and cut body uncovered. With a glint in her eyes, she raised her chin, and stared straight ahead.

Draco Malfoy came around the corner, with Bellatrix and Dolohov at his heels. Hermione flinched instinctively, a small voice in the back of her mind screaming at her to grab the blanket, to hide somehow –

– she sat silently in place, ignored Bellatrix, and stared straight at Draco and Dolohov.

The Death Eater was leaning over her classmate, one hand curled over Draco's shoulder in a tight hold, and as Hermione watched, the man pushed Draco forward.

"Go on, Draco," Dolohov hissed, his eyes shining and feverish, and Hermione choked back a sob. Bellatrix clapped her hands and squealed like a little girl, and Draco simply stood there, his eyes fixed on Hermione's face.

"Go on," Dolohov repeated, and Draco jerked his gaze away from Hermione and turned to raise one thin eyebrow at the Death Eater. "How many times has she humiliated you, looked down upon you? How many times has she drawn her wand against you?"

The Death Eater moved forward as Hermione struggled to stay in place. " _Accio_ ," Dolohov murmured lazily, and Hermione gasped as she was jerked to her feet and slammed against the bars. Tears welled in her eyes as her head began to swim, a lump already forming on her forehead. The dark-haired Death Eater stepped back from Draco, letting go of his shoulder, and began pacing behind him.

"She's _right there_ , boy!" he thundered. "That superior look still on her face, challenging you to try to bring her low." A quick wave of his wand, and Hermione fell back, crumbling in a heap on the floor. Her head smacked off the bars again and she bit back a cry, stars forming in front of her vision. Off to her right somewhere, she heard Bellatrix _ooh_ ing and _aah_ ing.

 _Crazy bint can probably see the stars too,_ Hermione thought snidely, shaking her head to try to clear it.

"Knock her off her pedestal, Draco!" Dolohov encouraged, and through her double-vision, she saw a blurry, blond-headed shape move closer.

Hermione watched dully as Draco knelt in front of her on the opposite side of the bars. His left arm lay flat along his leg, right hand dangling his wand carelessly in his fingertips. As she struggled to focus, Draco Malfoy looked back at her, a strange glint in his eyes. He simply stayed there a moment, watching her, his face blank and his eyes unreadable.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he asked her softly, and Hermione scoffed. "You'd like it if I came in there and threw you down on the ground. Hell, Granger," he continued, his voice rising, sharpening, and he leaned forward, his eyes flashing, "maybe _that's_ why you've always hated me. Maybe – "

Hermione jerked back as his left hand shot forward, but Malfoy shoved his arm through the bars and grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her forward. Hermione cried out as his face twisted with hate, and Bellatrix clapped and squealed with glee again.

"Maybe you know," Malfoy hissed under his breath as Hermione whimpered in pain, the blond teen twisting his hand sharply in her hair. "Maybe you know, deep down, that you've _never_ been good enough, never strong enough, never _sharp_ enough to keep up with me." His hand tightened in her hair then slid to the back of her neck, and as his eyes bored into hers, she felt something cold along the base of her neck. Before she could react, the Malfoy scion pulled her forward enough to bang her head on the bars again, and as Hermione cried out reflexively, she felt something slide down her back and hit the floor with a soft _clang_.

As quickly as he had flown into a cold rage, Malfoy was quiet again, pushing her roughly backwards and sending her stumbling back to the floor. She landed atop something cold and metallic, and by instinct, she stayed where she fell, curling in on herself. Bellatrix was still giggling, and Dolohov was watching her heatedly.

Standing slowly, wiping his hands off on his shirt, Draco Malfoy said shortly, "Malfoys don't sully themselves with Mudbloods. Especially Mudbloods who don't even know how to use what they have." He eyed her up and down consideringly as Dolohov chuckled, and Hermione glared.

The youngest Malfoy looked at her a moment, the corner of his lip twitching upwards only a moment, his eyes shadowed, then turned to Dolohov with an air of utter boredom. "I've seen _more_ than enough," he declared, and swept past the two Death Eaters towards the stairs.

Hermione stayed frozen in place, her arms and legs still trembling. One hand came slowly up to rub the side of her head as she remained hunched on the floor. She waited several minutes after the sound of footsteps had faded before finally pushing shakily to her feet. With a deep breath, she looked down.

On the floor, beneath where she had fallen, was a long, thin dagger.

Hermione smiled. _Oh yes,_ she thought, _I know how to use what I have_.

* * *

 _Malfoy Manor_

 _Wiltshire, England_

 _November 1st, 1996_

 _11:30 PM_

The side door opened with a soft creak, and Charlie leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowed as he looked down the dark corridor. Beside him, Emmeline stood facing the other direction, her eyes roving carefully over their surroundings. He paused a moment, waiting as the dust settled in the air, then cast a quick revealing spell.

Not a soul around. From above came the steady sound of water dripping, and Charlie grimaced at the smell of stagnant water.

With a twisted smile, Charlie stepped through the doorway, Em on his heels. His father's contact had told them the servants' entrance had been long forgotten, and would likely be one of the best entrances to the property. Apparently, the man was right.

He stood still as Emmeline checked for traps and wards, his eyes on the portraits on the walls. They were all empty, their frames nothing but background scenery of landscapes and old rooms. A strange disquiet settled over him.

"Nothing," she whispered, her eyes scanning up and down the walls. As Charlie watched, she froze, staring at a crevice in the walls, and Charlie turned to look.

From ceiling down to a foot above the floor, a long, ragged crack stretched, little curled tendrils of roots sticking out.

"Devils Snare," he said quietly, raising his wand -

The roots shot forward suddenly, one blunt end striking Emmeline in the face, and she shrieked as she was knocked from her feet, her wand falling from her hand. Charlie sprang forward, flames shooting from his wand as the vine started to tangle around Em's throat. The witch grasped at the vine, gasping for breath as she tried to pull it loose, and Charlie swore under his breath.

" _Stop struggling,"_ he hissed, but Em didn't still. With a scowl, he waved his wand and his partner was unconscious, slowing the vine's tightening. He spun on his heel and cast a flame-whip at the middle of the vine, and the offending plant split in half, falling from her throat with a twitch.

At his feet, another tendril crept forward and Charlie swore again, casting a quick shield dome over Emmeline before jabbing his wand at the wall. " _Inflagrate_!" he hissed, and flames raced up the wall - a dull shrieking sound echoing through the corridor.

Charlie waited a few moments, watching as the flames ate away at the vines, before quickly dousing the wall. Letting out a shaky breath, he looked down at Em's still form.

A shadow fell over the end of the corridor, and Charlie turned to see a blond, aristocratic face smiling serenely at him.

"Hello, Charles," Lucius Malfoy said quietly. "Do give your regards to my father."

* * *

Mad-Eye stepped through the archway with a scowl on his face. Two steps ahead was Dawlish, and the ex-Auror watched carefully as the younger man moved through the darkness.

Something didn't feel right, but as Minerva was so fond of pointing out, he often thought so.

 _I'm usually right_ , he thought to himself with a grunt, his glass eye spinning over every shadow. As he watched, Dawlish turned suddenly through a doorway to the right, then stopped. Swearing under his breath, Moody moved quietly after him, a muffled _thud_ sounding from his wooden leg with every step he took.

His glass eye still spinning and watching behind them, he passed through the doorway - and stopped in a drawing room. His eyes narrowed and his wand came up instantly. _Wrong WAY_ , his mind screamed, and Moody watched as the candles around the room flared to life.

From behind Lucius Malfoy's desk, Augustus Rookwood smiled at him, his hands folded earnestly on the surface. Bellatrix Lestrange stood to his right, with the Lestrange brothers at his left. Dawlish moved off to the corner without a word and stood docile as the doors slammed shut behind Moody's back.

"Welcome, Alastor," Rookwood said lazily, a smile on his face. "So good of you to join us this evening."

Moody scowled as the sound of a bolt sliding home echoed through the room. "How long have you had him?" he asked gruffly, and Rookwood chuckled.

"Dawlish?" He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. " _Months_ ," he hissed. "And he's been in the room every time, every moment you planned against us." From the far corner, MacNair's low chuckle sounded, and Greyback snarled. Mad-Eye felt a sudden chill race through him, and behind his back, he shot off a Patronus, then another.

Rookwood's eyes followed the silver streaks as they shot through the wall, and he smiled again. "We know, Mad-Eye," he whispered. "We know that all we have to do is keep you at bay for a week, and the girl will die." He rose to his feet, walking across the room. "And the boy?" He stopped before Alastor, his wand trailing lazily across the ex-Aurors throat as Moody watched him silently. "Well, I'm certainly Bellatrix can draw it out for _weeks_ , months even. You saved him as a baby for _nothing_ , Alastor."

The ex-Auror snarled, and Rookwood stepped back as the air began to swirl around them, a smirk on his face. Turning his back on the deadly ex-Auror, Rookwood said sharply, "By the way, before you die, I just want you to know you were right."

Mad-Eye stared at him flatly.

"A poisonous toadstool never does change his spots," Rookwood said softly, and Mad-Eye's scowl deepened. With a snarl, he brandished his wand, and silver daggers flew through the air. One struck Rabastan in the throat even as Rodolphus dove for Rookwood, knocking the man off his feet. Behind them, Bellatrix shrieked as she was bowled over by MacNair, a dagger sticking out of his shoulder. Moody chuckled darkly as he shot a fiery whip around the room -

\- a sudden, searing pain flared in his back, and he gasped as greyed around the edges. Looking down, he saw the silvery point of a sword sticking through his ribs, and he groaned wetly as he fell to his knees.

Dawlish stepped around him, his eyes blank, and Rookwood got to his feet. Moody swayed in place on his good knee as he watched the man move towards him, gasping for breath as blood poured down his front.

The ex-Unspeakable knelt on the floor in front of him, brushing hair back from Moody's face gently. "You'll never warn them," he whispered. "You won't get to save them. I'll let the children know you tried," the man said earnestly, that soft smile still twisting his face.

Moody draw in one last, searing breath, and looked the other man straight in the eye. " _Expulso_ ," he whispered -

\- a sudden blast, and Moody fell to the ground as screams echoed in his ears.

* * *

Charlie groaned as his eyes opened, a persistent ringing in his ears. He pushed carefully to a sitting position, a strange calm settling over him. With a slow, steady breath, he climbed to his feet, blood rushing down his cheek from a long, thin gash. Turning quickly, he looked up and down the corridor, his wand raised in a shaking hand.

No one. At his feet, Emmeline lay still, her breath coming in slow, steady puffs. With a sigh of relief, he knelt beside the witch, carefully waking her. Em shot straight up, her eyes wide and panicked, and Charlie leaned over her quickly, clasping her shoulder gently.

"We're alright," he murmured softly, and Emmeline shoved to her feet, still looking around her worriedly.

"What happened?" she asked, and Charlie frowned.

"I had to knock you out - you wouldn't go still, and the Devils Snare…" His voice trailed off. "Malfoy showed up right after that. We must have missed a ward, or he saw the flames somehow." He shook his head.

"Is he…?" Em asked, and Charlie grimaced.

"Gone," he said simply, but his mind was whirling. What _had_ happened? Malfoy's eyes flashed before his mind, he saw the Death Eater raise his wand - then blackness.

The black-haired witch just stared at him, and Charlie turned away. "Come on," he said roughly. "We're on a sched - "

A sudden jet of silver light came soaring down the corridor, forming into an armadillo before the pair. As Charlie and Em stared, the armadillo opened its mouth and hissed in Moody's voice, " _Get. OUT._ "

Emmeline moved first, grabbing Charlie's arm and pulling him back the way they had come. In the back of his mind, the strange, calm quiet was broken by the imagined sound of Hermione crying.

Charlie shuddered, closed his eyes, and followed Emmeline out the door.

 _I'm sorry_ , he thought desperately.

* * *

 _Hospital Wing_

 _Hogwarts_

 _November 2_ _nd_ _, 1996_

 _12:07 AM_

Harry paced anxiously in the doorway as Arthur and Professor McGonagall watched. With a tired sigh, the Boy Who Lived shoved his hand through his hair, closing his eyes, and he stopped to lean against the wall wearily.

"I don't know," he admitted quietly. "We found a few different clues but – "

"Nothin' ceertain," Fleur finished for him, her voice carrying across the ward as she brushed a strand of fiery hair back from Bill's face. Harry watched as Bill shifted slightly in the hospital bed. The eldest Weasley son had woken an hour before, but drifted off again soon after. According to Pomfrey, Bill was going to be fine, but that didn't explain anything to Harry. _What the hell had happened_?

Harry glanced across the wing at the clock. The rescue mission had been underway for two hours, and they hadn't heard anything.

"When Bill is up and about," Harry continued, "I'll pick his brain, but – " He shrugged helplessly.

"But Dumbledore will wake when he wakes," Kingsley said somberly from his post by the ward doors.

"Yes," Harry frowned.

A sudden _gong_ echoed in the air, and Harry, Kingsley, Arthur and McGonagall whipped around to face the door. The sound of running echoed through the corridors as Bill shot straight up in bed, Fleur dropping down beside him and wrapping an arm around his back to brace him up.

"What was that?" Harry asked tensely.

"Portkey alarm," McGonagall said shortly, peering at the doors. "We can only hope that – "

Arthur moved to stand opposite Kingsley, the two leveling their wands at the open doorway –

Ron and Ginny appeared in the doorway, red-faced and out of breath.

"Ron! Ginny!" Molly exclaimed as Ginny doubled over, hands on her knees, and Ron looked at Kingsley steadily. The sounds of quiet voices echoed in through the corridor as Charlie and Emmeline emerged behind them.

"Moody," Ron said darkly. "I think he's dead."

Kingsley froze.

* * *

The Hospital Wing was silent when Charlie and Emmeline limped in, their faces drawn. Shacklebolt looked over at them as they stumbled over to a couple empty beds, saying nothing.

"I don't know," Charlie answered his unspoken question. "We never even made it past the servants corridor. We were attacked, and then Moody sent us a Patronus to bug out."

"We waited for him at the checkpoint," Emmeline said shakily, one hand rubbing at her throat absently. "But he never came. Dawlish, either."

Minerva closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath, then shook her head and moved to Dumbledore's side. She reached carefully into the wizards robe pocket and pulled out a long, thin chain with a gold pocket watch. Flipping open the watch, she looked down at the face.

As the others watched, her face fell. Pressing a hand to her heart, she handed the watch off to Kingsley.

The burly Auror took the watch with a deep feeling of foreboding, looking down at the hands. His own rested on Hogwarts, as did Minerva's, Tonks, Arthur and Molly's, and about a dozen others.

Moody's hand was blackened.

 _Not you, old man,_ Kingsley thought sadly. With a wave of his wand, he shot a Patronus off to Tonks, and for a moment, misery crept up on him.

"How did you know?" he asked Ron suddenly, and the red-headed teen scowled, tears swimming in his eyes.

"He sent me a Patronus," Ron said quietly. "Said to have you bring me to his house, so I can get something. I figured he'd only – "

Kingsley nodded as the young wizard trailed off, his face set.

 _Merlin, Moody,_ he thought as Arthur's face crumbled, as Molly reached over to her husband and as sad voices echoed through the room. Glancing over to his right, he saw the Boy Who Lived go still, his eyes settling on Charlie with a hardened look.

"Hermione and Neville?" he asked in a low voice, and Charlie flinched. He met the younger wizard's gaze silently, and Harry glared. _Damn_ , Kingsley thought, and

"Right, then," Harry said sharply. "Ron, Ginny, Luna, gather the DA. This is on us, so we're on planning mode from here on out."

The three teens nodded and headed for the door, just as Tonks skidded into the wing. She barely avoided slamming into Ginny and excused herself around the three, who shot her bemused looks, then rushed over to Kingsley.

"What is it, Shack?" she asked, her pink eyes wide. "Why'd you pull me off patrol?"

Kingsley closed his eyes as Arthur, Minerva and Molly left the wing. "Tonks, sit down," he said gently, and the female Auror glared at him.

"Shack, _what_?"

* * *

 _Banks of the River Ness_

 _Inverness, Scotland_

 _November 2nd, 1996_

 _2:47 AM_

Doug shoved his hair back from his face with a tired sigh, his hands trembling in the early-morning chill. With a muttered oath, he fumbled with the ropes anchoring his fishing boat to the docks, grinning as they finally slipped loose.

No more drinking the night before going out on the river, he declared to himself.

With careful movements, he stepped aboard _The Cecilia_ and revved the motor, muttering darkly again as it clicked before starting. If he didn't get a good haul this run, he wouldn't be able to replace his motor, and then what would he do?

But she started, and she powered through the water as he patted her side, coming to a slow stop about 50 feet out from the bank.

He dropped his nets over the sides, cast his reels, and leaned back, his eyes steady on the water. Flexing his fingers, he pulled a ginger out of the cooler and popped the top, taking a long swig. Flipping a switch on his boombox, he smiled as the haunting sounds of Beethoven drifted over the water.

As he watched, a low, thick fog rolled in, and he cursed as the temperature seemed to drop 5 degrees in as many minutes. He scowled as he tried to focus in on his nets, watching them carefully for any movement.

A ringing began to sound in his ears, quiet at first, then slowly getting louder. The face of his beautiful Cecilia floated in his mind and he cringed.

" _Play with me, Daddy!" her voice echoed, and he scowled in the rearview mirror._

" _Not now, sweetie, I'm trying to concentrate!" he snapped back. Cecilia pouted back at him, her little hands working at her seat belt straps._

" _But Daddy!"_

Doug shook his head harshly, pressing his palms over his eyes as he drew a sharp breath. _Don't,_ he told himself. _Don't think about_ –

The air grew even more chilly, and Cecilia's voice more insistent. _"Daddy, I want to drive!"_ _Cecilia shouted in his mind, and she pulled loose from her restraints, shoving up into his seat._

" _Cici, no!" he yelled, and she banged the wheel with her elbow as he pushed her back. A loud horn sounded –_

Doug let out a quiet sob as the air around him turned to ice. He fell limply to the floor of his boat, his eyes glassy and staring.

The black-clad figure glided away over the water, the river turning to ice beneath it, and the _Cecilia_ continued to bob in river.

* * *

 _Devon, England_

 _November 2nd, 1996_

 _3:13 AM_

Ruth sat up in bed, her eyes wide and startled, as the sound of her baby wailing rang through the house. She shot to her feet, ignoring her husband's whine, and grabbed her dressing gown as she raced from the room.

She had been a new mother only a month, and though the doctors told her she needed to let her baby learn to calm himself, she didn't care. If Evan needed her, Evan got her.

She moved quickly through the dark hallway, pushing open the nursery door as her baby's cries cut off. It was freezing in that room, she thought idly, stepping over to fiddle with the thermostat.

"It's okay, baby," she cooed, moving over to the side of the crib.

She looked down – and screamed.

As she pressed her hands to her heart, staring down at her baby's wide, unseeing eyes, a shadow swept over her.

* * *

 _Central Manchester University Hospital_

 _Manchester, England_

 _November 2nd, 1996_

 _3:57 AM_

Abby Munroe just wanted to go home.

The nurse sighed as she hung her clipboard back on the wall, pulling at her ponytail with a grumble. She had been on-duty for twenty-six hours and counting.

Her feet hurt, her back hurt, her _eyes_ hurt.

With another sigh, she squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them and spun on her heel. Time for another pass of her rounds.

She moved through the halls with robotic precision, peeking in every door, checking on every sleeping patient, checking saline and medication levels and vitals at each bed. With a smile, she got to Ms Vablatsky's room and stepped in to see the elderly lady peering at her suspiciously. One hand was wrapped around the pendant at her neck, as usual, and a deep frown marred her face. Abby slid the door shut behind her and met the old woman's gaze with a smile.

Batty though the old crone may be, she never failed to entertain. A grin teased at Abby's lips as she thought about the many fortunes the old woman had told her. Her personal favorite? That Abby would meet a soldier in a battle against good and evil, and would narrowly escape death only to find true love.

Abby chuckled to herself. She'd had enough bad luck with cupid to realize that her "true love" was her dog, Midas.

"Missus Cassandra," she asked chipperly, "how are you feeling?"

The old woman stared at her beedily. "It's cold," she croaked, and Abby smiled sympathetically. Crossing the room, she gathered up one of the long, colorful throws over the guest chair – _which is never used,_ she thought sadly – and spread the blanket over Missus Vablatsky's legs.

"There," she said softly, patting the woman's wrinkled hand. "That better?"

The old woman sighed, her piercing blue eyes fixed on Abby's face. "You foolish, foolish child," the woman whispered. "I am sorry."

"What?" Abby asked, pulling back slightly, and the woman jerked forward, grabbing her wrist with surprising strength. Around them, the lights flickered, and Abby whipped around as she heard a scream echo down the hall. "Missus Cassandra, what – "

The old woman ignored her, pulling insistently on Abby's arm until the young woman bent down, faces level. "Go now," the woman wheezed. "Go north. Find a town called Hogsmeade, and ask for Sybill Trelawney. Tell her that her great-grandmother sent you. Give her this!"

With a grunt, Missus Vablatsky pulled the pendant from around her neck, pressing it into Abby's hand. Abby stared down at the necklace, a tiny, stone book, shivering as the temperature dropped to nothing. A voice in the back of her mind was shrilly asking what was _happening_ , and Abby swallowed nervously as she met the crazy old woman's gaze.

Cassandra Vablatsky looked back at her with more clarity than she had ever seen on the old woman's face. As the two stared at each other, a thud sounded in the background, and Abby jumped as the door slammed open. Marcus, the night guard, fell through the door and landed crumpled on the ground, his brown eyes wide and unseeing. Abby cried out in shock and Cassandra grabbed her shoulder with one hand, tugging the girl to face her again.

"Go!" she hissed. "Go now. Find Sibyll Trelawney. Tell her this is for the Boy-Who –"

A sudden chill shot through Abby's body as the air around her turned to ice, and a rattling sound echoed through the air. "Go, child! Out the window!" the old lady screeched, and Abby closed her eyes in panic.

She gripped tightly to the pendant in her hand, opening her eyes as the sharp edges cut into her palm and drew blood. The small book charm glowed, a misty golden light surrounding it Looking up, she turned to stare at Missus Vablatsky – and gasped. A dark, cloaked figure was gliding through the hall outside – and one was in the room, standing over Missus Vablatsky's bed.

The thing turned, its eyeless face staring in her direction, and Abby froze.

"GO!" Cassandra screamed, and Abby spun, racing out the connecting door and through the next room. As she broke into the far-right hallway, another cloaked figure glided out of a room three doors back, and she gasped as she raced through the hall, dodging supply carts and abandoned walkers. She jumped over sprawled bodies as the voice in her head screamed in protest, her eyes swimming with tears. She just had to make it to the end of the hall –

She skidded to a halt as one of the cloaks appeared before her, her eyes wide and tears staining her cheeks. The thing drew a rattling breath, its horrible grey mouth gaping open. With a cry, Abby pitched herself to the right, slamming through another door. She stumbled to a halt as she found herself in the infants ward, her mind screaming with horror as she stared around the room.

A sudden _thud_ sounded behind her, and Abby jumped, spinning around. Nothing. With a shaky breath, she looked down at the book charm. It had stopped glowing, she noticed, and with a shaking hand, she secured the pendant around her neck, her breath coming in choking sobs.

The room was dark, and missing the bone-deep chill she had felt around those _things_. With an uncertain step, she moved forward towards the grouping of bassinets. None of the babies were making a sound, so she was terrified to even look, and yet –

As Abby gazed at the still babies, a dozen tiny boys and girls staring unseeing at the ceiling, she felt true hate spring to life.

A light flickered in the corner, and Abby spun on her heel, watching the double doors. After a moment of stillness, she moved through the room, her mind still screaming in horror, and went out the other side.

She made it through devastated corridors with no resistance, moving quietly down the stairs to the main floor. Pushing open the emergency door carefully, she peered out into the lobby. _One more level to the exit_ , she thought with a sob, _you can do this!_

The lights were still on, and she saw no cloaks. Moving forward carefully, she crept towards the nurses station, her eyes sweeping her surroundings constantly. Another cry bubbled through her lips as she stared at Debbie. The night receptionist was still in her chair, pen still in her hand, staring blankly ahead.

"Deb?" she whispered shakily, and the woman didn't move, didn't turn, just sat there staring blankly ahead. As she watched, the fan behind the woman turned and pointed directly at her chair, and a wheel slipped. Debbie fell, landing with her head on the counter, and stayed there, eyes still staring glassily ahead.

Abby closed her eyes helplessly. She skirted the counter and reached for her friend, carefully lowering the dead weight to lie on the floor. The woman's curly red hair bunched under her head, and Abby reached up to rearrange it.

 _You've cracked_ , she told herself, and pushing to her feet, she looked down at Debbie.

"I"m sorry," she whispered. She looked around the lobby as the lights began to flicker. A janitor, Mitch, lay slumped against the cafeteria doors, his cart abandoned a few feet away. One of the doctors, Ryan, was crumpled on the ground not far from the elevator. The voice in the back of her mind started screaming again, and she dove for the intercom.

"Is anybody alive in here?" she shouted into the microphone. "Anyone? _Answer me!_ "

She fell back against the counter, breathing heavy, and stared towards the stairs. Wrapping her right hand around the pendant, she stood perfectly still, the only sound her labored breaths.

Nothing. A dead silence fell over the hospital, and as she watched, her breath turned to cold fog. With a cold dread in her stomach, she spun to stare out the bank of windows to her right, outside which lay the parking lot – and her car.

Three cloaks appeared on the stairs, and Abby _ran_. She dove for the janitor's cart, landing on her feet on the top, and the cart skidded across the floor towards the windows. They hit with a crash and the glass shattered, Abby crying out as she was flung through the window.

Heart in her throat, she landed on her right arm in the bushes, gasping as a sharp pain bloomed instantly in her shoulder. She shoved to her feet and kicked free from the bushes, her eyes wide as she stared up at the broken windows above her.

The cloaks began to glide down through the air – _flying –_ and Abby broke into a run. Stumbling as she stepped in a pothole, she wrenched her ankle and gasped again, hobbling as fast as she could towards her Volvo savior. She reached the car as the lights all flickered out again, and fumbling with the handle, she flung herself into the driver's seat. With a quick move, she locked the doors and cranked her car. Closing her eyes, she pressed her head back against the headrest and let out another shuddering breath.

A sudden scraping sounded, and Abby whipped her head around to see a gray, cloak-framed face looking down at her outside her car window. The thing traced its sharp nail on her window as she stared in horror, frost following along in a line. The sound of glass cracking rent through the air, and Abby slammed on the gas.

She tore through the streets as the _things_ sailed through the air behind her, taking sharp turn after sharp turn as she tried desperately to shake her tails. After about fifteen minutes of aimless driving, she looked in the rearview mirror and saw only black.

Pulling over to the side of the road, she slammed her car into park and sat there, white knuckles gripping the steering wheel, and peered steadily around herself.

Thirty minutes later, she shoved her hair back from her face, started her car, and drove to her flat.

One hand was wrapped around the pendant the entire time.

* * *

Lord Voldemort stepped through the doorway, his lips pinched in distaste as he looked around the room. Cassandra Vablatsky peered back at him, her Dementor sentry still hovering by her bedside.

The Dark Lord crossed to her side, settling easily in the arm chair by her bed. "Cassie," he said lightly, a small smile on his face. "It's been a long time."

The woman _harrumphed_ , staring at him with narrowed eyes. "Beware, Tom," she croaked. "A woman's sacrifice for her child ended you once. A woman's sacrifice for her love will _erase you_ from existence."

His smile faded, and he leaned forward, his red eyes flashing. "You have something of mine. I want it back," he hissed.

The old woman cackled, her laugh turning into a rasping cough. "Not yours," she gasped out. "Never was, and never will be!"

Lord Voldemort sighed, looking down at the old woman. "You did me a kindness once," he said quietly, "so I return the favor. Tell me where it is, and your death shall be quick."

The old crone spat in his face.

Looking up, eyes flashing, Voldemort turned to the Dementor. "Go. Keep Potter busy. Take a group."

The Dementor glided from the room, and Voldemort turned back to the Seer.

"Whatever fate brought you here," he whispered as he drew his wand, "to this wide-open Muggle hospital... I _am_ glad for it." With a smile, he slammed the doors behind himself, closing them in, and the old woman began to scream.

* * *

 _Room of Requirement_

 _Hogwarts_

 _November 2nd, 1996_

 _4:22 AM_

Kingsley slammed into the room, his robes swirling around himself, and Harry jumped up, startled, staring at the Auror from the edge of the couch. Beside him, Ron stirred in his sleep, and Harry shot a stinging hex at his best friend.

"Ow!" Ron complained as he sat up, and Kingsley glared.

"Hogsmeade. Dementors," the burly man said frantically, and Harry shoved to his feet.

"How many?" he demanded, and the Auror scowled.

"At least a hundred," he said shortly, as Ginny and Luna jumped to their feet by the fire. The girls shared a quick glance and Luna reached into her pocket, pulling out her DA coin.

"All hands on deck," Harry said shortly, grabbing his wand, and he and Kingsley crossed to the fireplace. The Auror pressed his hand to the mantle, whispering under his breath, and the dwindling flames roared to life and turned a shocking green.

"Ready?" the man asked, and Harry nodded. The pair stepped into the fireplace, and Kingsley called out, "The Three Broomsticks!"

They stumbled out into the darkened pub, and stepped quickly out of the way as Ron and Ginny appeared, Luna on their heels.

"Tonks was getting Hufflepuff," Kingsley said in a low voice, "Fleur went for Ravenclaw, and Charlie was getting Gryffindor."

Luna pocketed her DA coin, peering around them through the windows. "All DA are ready and waiting for escort," she said simply, and pulling her wand from behind her ear, she strode for the back doors, Ginny quickly following. Harry gazed after her a brief moment before jerking his head towards the front doors. Ron nodded, and the pair moved out into the street as Kingsley followed.

They entered into chaos.

The streets were dark, all the lamps out, and witches and wizards and children stumbled through the streets, screaming as they ran from black blurs that shot through the crowds. Here and there throughout the madness was the burgundy robes of the Aurors, twisting and shouting as they battled against dozens of the cloaked creatures.

Harry raced forward, diving towards one of the blurs that was closing in on a young blonde girl. With a growl, he summoned his Patronus, watching with satisfaction as Prongs tossed the Dementor into the air. Behind him, another scream sounded, and he pushed forward through the throng, his eyes narrowed as his mother's scream began to sound in the back of his mind.

Tonks stumbled through the doorway behind them, Hannah, Ernie, Susan and Justin at her back. She raced off to join Kingsley as the others split into pairs, branching off down the street. Ahead of him, he saw Luna's moonlight-blond hair and Ginny's fiery mane tangling in the air as the fought back-to-back, Ginny firing off Patroni as Luna cast shields around a small group of children shaking behind them. Harry pushed ahead, his eyes on the girls –

He froze as he stumbled around a corner, his eyes falling on a small bench. A little girl sat on that bench, her toddler brother shoved behind her, and a practice wand sticking straight forward in her hand. A gray-cloaked Dementor let go of her brother's face and straightened, turning to face Harry –

And the Boy-Who-Lived saw red.

Flinging his hands forward, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. _Not Harry_ , his mother's voice whispered.

" _Lux judex!_ " he screamed, and a blinding white light appeared before him. His arms trembled as the light poured out of him, and his vision went black.

* * *

 _Room of Requirement_

 _Hogwarts_

 _November 2_ _nd_ _, 1996_

 _6:45 PM_

"So that's it, then," Ron said flatly, his hands balled into fists as he stared blankly into the fire. "Kamikaze is our only option."

A dark smile teased Harry's lips as he looked down at hastily-drawn map. Ernie had been able to provide them with a basic layout for Malfoy Manor, having been in the building for society functions a handful of times. They had checked it against the Patil twins' memories and all agreed – Hermione and Neville were likely in the dungeon off the drawing room.

Ernie had shuddered as he recounted a party in which he had gotten lost looking for a toilet, only to end up in Malfoy Senior's study. He had refused to go into detail, but told the group to look for a portrait of a blond-haired man in armor, and press the bottom right corner of the frame. The shadowed look in the Hufflepuff's eyes _more_ than convinced Harry that he was telling the truth.

He was okay with charging the gates, personally. More chance for bloodshed. He flinched as the little brown-haired girl's face flashed through his mind, crumpled over the bench clinging to her baby brother. The blank, soulless eyes stared straight ahead, and he swallowed. His gaze hardened, his back straightened, and he looked down at the map calmly.

Harry Potter was done pulling his punches.

He winced as he shifted in the armchair, pain firing up and down his limbs. The spell he had channeled had knocked him flat for hours, missing the rest of the battle. When he had woken, Kingsley had torn into him in his hospital bed for his risky move.

 _Luna and Ginny had to abandon the fight to guard **you**_ , Kingsley had hissed at him. _One of my teammates died fighting to get to **you**_ , the Auror said. _Quit trying to be a hero and just be a soldier!_

"So, teams?" Ginny questioned, and Harry glanced over at her as Luna sidled up to his side and lay her head on his shoulder.

A sudden slamming sound echoed through the room, and they all spun to stare as a door materialized on the wall opposite the fireplace. With a sharp glance, Ron gestured at the girls as he moved towards the door. Ginny closed a shield around herself and Harry as Luna moved to crouch behind a nearby couch. The DA all knew to use the room's magic to picture their meeting room, after all, and they could just walk in.

 _Bang bang bang_ thudded through the walls again, and Ron glanced back at Harry sharply. With a steady hand, he reached for the door, his wand held up in his off-and and trained towards the entrance. Jerking the door open –

– he froze, staring slack-jawed as Harry pushed to his feet and stepped forward.

In the doorway stood Draco Malfoy. His hair was lank and matted, straw and grass visible in several places. His slacks were covered in dirt and mud, his white button-up was ripped in spots, and there were scrapes and bruises along his jawline. Parkinson and Zabini stood behind him, the girl eyeing the Slytherin boy worriedly, the dark-haired boy glancing around the room past Malfoy and Ron.

Meeting Harry's gaze, Malfoy's lip quirked in a slight smirk before his eyes hardened.

"They're in my father's dungeons," he said simply. "I can get you in."

* * *

A/N: Review if you have something to say. (Should I grovel some more over the time lapse between updates, by the way?)

Oh, and to prove I'm not dropping off the map again, sneak peeks!

Up Next:

 _"Come on," she whispered. "It's time to get out of here."_

 _He raised his head and peered at her through the bars, cringing at the blood crusted on her cheek. "How - ?" he asked weakly, and she just smiled._

 _"We don't have long. Let's go!" she replied softly, and he nodded, shoving to his feet. His vision swam and he swallowed convulsively -_

~*~SA


	6. Chapter 5: Ask Not

**A/N: I'm disabling anonymous reviews. I never mind when someone doesn't like or disagrees with something I write, but I would like the ability to at least respond to that person, maybe find out why. To "Fae," who said they "hadn't seen a fanfic this sexist in a long time" - I'm sorry you feel that way. This story is an attempt to explore the actual cost and depravity of war, and it's going to get very grim. If you stick around a while, you might see some people end up becoming absolute badasses. If not, thanks for reading at least this far. And if there are things, aside from what they are going through, that are making you see it that way, please do reach out and let me know. Perhaps there is something that unintentionally was phrased in the wrong way, who knows?**

 **And now, onward! (Because what other way is there ever to go?)**

 **~*~SA**

 **The Paths We Tread**

Chapter 5:

Ask Not

 _Room of Requirement_

 _Hogwarts_

 _November 2_ _nd_ _, 1996_

 _6:46 PM_

Harry stared at Malfoy, his eyes hardened, as jaws dropped all around him. After a momentary pause, he tightened his grip on his wand and said softly, "If you're lying, or this is a trick, I _will_ kill you. I just want you to know that."

Malfoy smirked. "Whatever helps you sleep, Potter," he replied. Raising one eyebrow, he made a show of looking around. "Are we gonna talk about this in the corridor, or – ?"

Ron looked at Harry questioningly, and the Potter heir nodded shortly. The Weasley son stepped back, allowing the Slytherins to enter the room, but did not lower his wand.

The door _clicked_ shut behind the tree, and Luna stood from her hiding spot, wand still gripped tightly in her hand. Zabini and Parkinson spared her a curious glance, but Malfoy went straight for the table. He halted opposite the table from Harry, his eyes trained towards the map's surface.

"Not a bad map, considering it must have been drawn from years-old memory," he said simply. Bracing his hand on the table's edge, he leaned over and traced an outer wall, his finger stopping over the drawing room. "There," he added, tapping the spot repeatedly. "The dungeons are directly under there, three levels down."

Ginny swore, and Zabini snickered.

"Why," she said shortly, and Malfoy glanced up, his lips drawn, and met her blank gaze.

"I'd imagine, for secrecy," he replied easily, and Ron scoffed under his breath.

The Malfoy scion sighed, turning to face Harry and ignoring the others. "I've seen her," he said quietly. "Haven't seen Longbottom, but I've heard him. As of this afternoon, they were both alive."

Harry closed his eyes for a brief moment and Ginny made a small sound in the back of her throat. Glancing at each other, Ron and Luna stepped closer to the rest, Luna's wand pointed steadily at Zabini and Parkinson, and Ron's trained right between Malfoy's eyes.

"You've seen Hermione?" Harry asked quietly. "Is she – have they –?"

Malfoy cut him off. "Yes."

Every piece of furniture in the room began to shake and Luna dropped her wand, rushing to Harry's side. With a whisper, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled his head down on her shoulder. White-faced, Ginny raised a shaking hand to point her wand towards the Slytherins, as Ron stood there, gaping at Malfoy.

Malfoy pursed his lips again, turning towards Ron. He opened his mouth, then closed it with an audible click. Finally, as the room began to settle, with Luna still murmuring to Harry behind them, the Slytherin spoke quietly.

"Granger isn't broken. She glared at me with plenty of fury," he told Ron, the corner of his lip quirking. "Don't worry, your Gryffindor princess still has her spirit."

Harry pulled away from Luna, scowling at her when she reached for his hand.

"Why. Are. You. Telling. Us. This?" he bit off, glaring forcefully at the blond Slytherin.

"You hate them," Ron added. "I can't even _count_ how many times you've called Hermione a 'mudblood,'" he spat.

"Of course I hate them!" Malfoy exclaimed. "Granger is a Know-It-All _freak_ and Longbottom is a lazy, worthless fat – well, he's not as fat anymore," he said sheepishly, and Ginny and Luna exchanged an astonished glance.

"But that doesn't mean I want them dying in my home," he added. "I would never associate with them, but I don't want their blood on my hands. _Especially_ not like this."

Harry looked at Luna questioningly, and the girl stared unblinkingly at Malfoy. The Slytherin grimaced, but looked back at her steadily. After several uncomfortable minutes of silence, Luna nodded. Raising an eyebrow, Harry turned to Ron, who pulled a face before nodding as well.

"Take a seat," Harry said neutrally, as three armchairs appeared between the couches. Stepping closer to Malfoy, his lips twisted in a vicious grin. "And leave _nothing_ out."

Malfoy stayed where he stood, a look of strong distaste marring his features. "I just want to be clear that we are _not_ going to be friends, Potter," he snarled. "I want them out of my house, _alive_ , and then we're _done."_

Ginny scoffed, still eyeing Parkinson distrustfully. "I wouldn't worry about that, Malfoy," she spat, and the Malfoy heir grinned. Stepping carefully over an abandoned bean bag on the floor, he sat gingerly on the edge of an armchair and motioned his cohorts to do the same.

"Alright," he said simply, as the others moved with suspicious looks to the group of chairs and couches. With a wave of his wand, he summoned the map and spread it over the round table between them. "It's fairly simple, actually. "

Pointing towards a spot on the lower right section, he murmured, "My father always employs four guards, and the overnight patrols take place at 11 pm, 1:30 am, 3:30 am, and 5:30 am." He traced a line with his wand, and a shimmering silver trail appeared on the map, with small footsteps dotting it. "They follow this route, exactly. It usually takes about 15 minutes for them to walk it. If we go in the early morning hours, they should be tired enough to be sloppy." He looked up, glancing between Harry and Ron with a serious expression. "Getting in is easy; you can Floo in with a member of the family. So I'll go through with Potter – "

"Wrong," Ron said sharply.

" – I'll go through with Weasley," Malfoy continued, as if he hadn't been interrupted, "and open the connection from the inside to allow the rest through. Once we're in, we'll have to make it through six corridors to reach the drawing room, and there are easily three dozen portraits between the parlor and the drawing room, so Potter, you're going to want your blasted cloak. The rest of you _Disillusion_ or something."

"That's it?" Harry asked incredulously, and Malfoy smirked.

"Getting in is the easy part," he said simply. "But the manor is warded against apparition and Portkeying by anyone not of the family line. We'll have to _walk_ out with them. And my father will have alarm spells set on the cells, so the moment we open them, they'll know."

"How, then," Ginny asked sharply, "do you propose we _do_ get out?"

Malfoy shrugged, and he and Zabini exchanged a glance as Parkinson scowled. "I have a couple ideas, but – "

Ron leaned over, eyes fixed on the center of the map. "I know."

All eyes turned to him, and he just smiled.

* * *

 _Manchester, England_

 _November 2nd, 1996_

 _8:30 PM_

Abby sat silently in her booth, her hands wrapped around a large cup of coffee. She took a careful sip and looked around, eyes wide and startled.

Setting down the cup, one hand came up to grip the book pendant, and she stared as the air around her began to shimmer. She jerked her hand down, letting go of the book – the shimmering disappeared.

 _Alright_ , she thought quietly, _so this pendant is – magic_.

She made a low, keening sound in the back of her throat, and slumped in her booth, her head _thunk_ ing onto the table surface.

Why was magic so hard to believe in? What, she wondered, had she seen the night before, if not some strange, horrible monsters that should not exist?

She closed her eyes as faces flashed through her mind. Poor Debbie. Poor Mitch. Poor Ms Vablatsky.

Raising her head and propping it up on her fist, she let out a shaky sigh. Ms Vablatsky.

The old bat _must_ have been magical, or why would those _things_ have been after her? Maybe – maybe everyone that died was just in the way. Just trying to get to –

An image flashed through her mind, a still, silent nursery, and tears began to slide down her cheeks. With a shuddering breath, she pushed herself into an upright position, then shook her head.

No. What had happened was horrible, but it was a freak occurrence. There wasn't any such thing as magic, or monsters. It was a gas leak. Just like the news was saying. Just a strange, poisonous gas, and she got out –

 _What about the ones that chased you_? The voice in the back of her mind whispered, and she shook her head again. _Hallucinations_ , she decided. _The gas, it made me hallucinate._

A gasp sounded from the booth ahead of her, and she opened her eyes. Behind the counter, the waitress was turning up the volume on the TV, and Abby stared at the screen. Picking up the coffee cup in shaking hands, she forced herself to listen –

" _Street gangs are suspected to be behind the attack on Manchester Hospital, which left every patient and worker dead early this morning. The most horrific sight of the massacre, however, was the newborns. Their bodies were mutilated and hung on the walls of the hospital lobby, arranged to spell out a name – "_

Abby looked steadily at the screen as the camera zoomed in on the lobby wall.

She dropped the cup.

Hot liquid splashed all over her front and still she stared at the screen, as the reporter droned on, as the camera shifted to the gruesome image of the nursery, all those babies slashed to bits. As the waitress rushed to her side, rags in hand, she sat frozen, staring at the screen.

Cassandra's voice echoed in her mind. _Find Sibyll Trelawney. Tell her this is for the Boy-Who –_

She shot to her feet, brushing aside the startled waitress, and throwing a ten-pound note on the table, she ran for the door. Jumping in her car, she took off with a screech of tires and shot through the streets, weaving in and out of traffic, until she reached her flat.

She bypassed the elevator, taking the stairs two at a time, and fumbled with the lock, slamming her door open. Midas whined from his bed in the corner as she ran into her room, leaving the door wide open, and dragged out her duffel bag. The large pittie walked into the room behind her, his tag wagging energetically as he stared at her frantic movements. Without pausing or glancing down, she gathered bunches of clothes, toiletries, and her emergency cash, and threw it all into the bag. Running into the kitchen, she shoved the dog food into a shopping bag and hefted both bags over her shoulder, grabbing Midas' lead and snapping her fingers.

The brindle dog came to her side with a confused _huff_ , sitting on his haunches and allowing her to hook the lead without much effort. Turning on her heel, she led her dog out of the flat and slammed the door shut behind her, running down the stairs as fast as she went up.

When they were loaded in the car, she paused a moment, breathing hard.

How was she supposed to find a magical town?

North, she remembered, closing her eyes. _Ms Cassandra said go north._

She cranked the car, and turned into the road.

* * *

 _Hospital Wing_

 _Hogwarts_

 _November 3_ _rd_ _, 1996_

 _1:03 AM_

With a shuddering gasp, Dumbledore woke.

He levered himself up on his elbows, eyes wide and panting heavily. With a muttered oath, he fell back on the bed, his arms trembling as his heart raced. Spots danced before his eyes and he swallowed convulsively, his eyes watering.

 _Take it easy, brother_ , his sister's voice sounded in his mind. _Take a moment_.

He closed his eyes and let out a slow, deep breath, then opened them again. Turning his head, he surveyed the patient in the bed next to him, then the one on the other side, and his lips lifted in a gentle smile.

He wondered who had been the one to bring the worst-injured Muggles to Hogwarts for treatment. Arthur? Or Minerva?

 _But we must remove their memories, to protect this place_ , he thought mournfully, _and I've always hated -_

 _Not always_ , the voice of Gellert hissed in the back of his mind, and he frowned.

With another steadying breath, he tried again, this time making it fully to a seated position. He scooted back carefully along the bed until his back was braced against the headboard, and reached for the bedside table, and his wand.

It warmed and thrummed in his hand, and he let out a sigh of relief.

"Albus!" a voice exclaimed, and he looked up to see Poppy hurrying over to him, her apron half-untied and dragging behind her.

The matron clucked her tongue worriedly, her mouth pinched in disapproval. With a scowl, she reached his side and brandished her wand, numbers and symbols appearing in the air around him. Albus flinched as a cold compress slapped itself onto his head, and the mediwitch made a low sound in the back of her throat.

"Hush, Headmaster," she said chidingly, and Albus chuckled lightly. The laugh turned into a cough, and her eyes sharpened. Another wave of her wand, and a potions vial appeared.

"Take this," she ordered, "or you'll catch your death of pneumonia."

"Poppy, I don't – " Albus began, and the matron's eyes narrowed. Swallowing his protest, Albus sighed and chugged the vial of steaming liquid.

Turning his head as steam shot out of his ears, his eyes fell on the young man beside him, bandaged wrapped around most of his right side. "Will he live?"

Poppy looked at the young man and frowned. "They all will, but it was close on some of them." Shaking her head, she moved to the boy's side and ran her wand tip along his forehead, smiling slightly as he settled in his sleep. "Most of these are barely adults, and they had organs ripped out of their bodies. We lost six of them immediately, but the rest – " She patted the boy's hand gently.

"I can't speak for what the experience will do to them," she said softly, "but they will live."

"William? Nymphadora?" he asked worriedly. The image of them tumbling from the roof of the automobile, bathed in sickly green light, flashed before his eyes, and he dreaded the answer.

"Tonks is fine," Pomfrey replied easily, "and William awoke yesterday. He is still very weak, but he will make a full recovery."

"What – " Another sudden shortness of breath overtook him, and he gasped, coughing wetly. He shook his head, holding up a hand to stay Poppy as she moved towards him. Sighing lightly, the mediwitch perched on the edge of the boy's bed and watched him as he regained his breath.

" _Imperius_ ," she replied shortly. "You-Know-Who _Imperius_ ed him to kill himself."

"Did he fight it off?" Dumbledore rasped urgently, and Poppy frowned.

"Tonks stopped him. But," the matron added, "he awoke alert, and Severus searched his mind. Near as we can tell, he's alone in there."

The Headmaster nodded, his gaze distant. _Unless there's something Severus missed,_ his sister's voice cautioned him. _Or something he didn't tell._

His eyes dimmed, and he shook his head to clear it before turning to Pomfrey. "The children?" he asked quietly. "Miss Granger and Mr. Longbottom?"

She began to sob, closing her eyes.

"Poppy," he said gently, and the woman sniffled loudly.

"They went last night," the mediwitch whispered, pressing the backs of her hands to her eyes as she tried to stem the tears. "Albus, Alastor and Dawlish, they – they didn't come back."

The Headmaster let out a sharp breath, his eyes flashing. Around them, the lights flickered and the air went cold. "The children?" he asked harshly, and Poppy flinched and shook her head.

Around them, sleeping patients began to stir, shivering and grasping at their covers. With a muffled oath, he closed his eyes, forcing himself to calm. The torches flared back to life and the air slowly warmed to the normal, seasonal nighttime chill. Poppy lowered shaking hands slowly from her face, and he shot her an apologetic smile.

"No one has seen Harry or the others," she told him in a low voice, "not since Charlie returned with the news."

Albus muttered darkly under his breath, turning on the bed to lower his legs to the floor. Poppy gasped and clucked at him, and he shrugged her off, climbing shakily to his feet.

"I must check on Harry," he wheezed. "He mustn't be permitted to – "

Grey dots appeared in his line of vision, and the last thing he heard was Poppy shouting.

* * *

 _The Lower Dungeons_

 _Hogwarts_

 _November 3_ _rd_ _, 1996_

 _4:30 AM_

Kingsley Shacklebolt peered into the darkness, his eyes roving back and forth across the corridor. His breath turned to mist in front of him, and the tips of his ears were going pale in the cold. He flexed his fingers around his wand and muttered darkly.

 _We should really do something to heat this level_.

Glass crunched under his boots as he moved down the corridor, and he sighed to himself. It seemed endless down here, open stretches of dark, dismal corridors that faded away into nothingness.

 _As you gaze into the abyss_ , he thought to himself.

"Yeah," he murmured, "nothin' wrong with you at _all_."

A face flashed through his mind and he swore, spinning on his heel and punching the wall. Blood dripped down his knuckles as he stood there, panting, and with a tired sigh, he leaned his head lightly against the wall.

 _Protect that castle,_ Moody's voice echoed in his head, _that's your duty._ With another muttered oath, he shoved back from the wall and carried on his patrol.

He hated wandering through the lower levels of the castle. While everything from the Potions level up was Dark Ages in style, it was still – _mostly_ – child-friendly. Below, however –

– he passed cell after cell, doors securely fastened, and not all of them had been scrubbed thoroughly. One had a giant bloodstain in the center of it, shaped almost like a starburst. Yet another still had strands of long, blond hair visible, hanging from the chains secured to the wall. Most had small animal skeletons littering their floors.

Why it had never been cleaned, he didn't understand. Perhaps Filch and the current professors had never wandered down here – as a matter of fact, he was confident that they hadn't – but someone before, surely, had to have walked these halls regularly.

But the dust that lined the floor was disturbed only by one set of boot prints – his.

Except –

His eyes narrowed, and he tightened his grip on his wand.

The sound of footsteps grew closer, and he inched his way down the corridor, eyes trained on the leftmost corner. Reaching the cell, he reached out with his offhand and pulled open the bars, wand still at the ready.

There was a sudden rustling sound as he stepped into the room, and he cast a hasty revealing curse – but either he was too late, or he was the only one in the vicinity. Raising an eyebrow, he took in the room.

It was dark, like everything else around him, but unlike the rest of the lower level, it was missing the coat of blood and grime. The stones were faded, but he could clearly make out the color of the stones. The air was stale, but it lacked the smell of rot and mildew. The walls – he stepped closer, eyes scanning the walls steadily, and slowly, carefully, ran his fingertips along the stone.

After a few moments, he found a tiny flower, etched into the stonework about halfway down, and with a careful hand, he pressed his wand lightly to the etching. Whispering under his breath, he watched as a soft light flowed through the etching, and the wall slid away to reveal a small cavern.

Candelabras flickered on the walls, and a small, marble-carved altar sat in the center of the floor. Around its base, picture after picture of a laughing redheaded girl, and a smiling redheaded woman. Shacklebolt looked around the room at the shrine to the late Lily Potter, and felt something cold coil in his stomach.

He knelt down next to the altar, picking up one picture near the center of the altar. In it, a picture of Lily in her wedding dress, smiling to her left. The photograph was cut jaggedly down the center, half of it missing, and Kingsley frowned.

 _You would know all about sick obsessions, wouldn't you, old man? a_ sked the voice in the back of his mind viciously, but he ignored it. His eyes continued moving around the room, and landed on a small desk by the wall. A collection of picture frames sat on this desk, with a red rose in a crystal phial, sitting right in the center.

He crossed the room and picked up a small, silver frame, and looking down at the picture, Kingsley swore again.

Shooting to his feet, he spun around and moved quickly from the cell, passing through the corridors without pause. He emerged in the Slytherin dungeons and made his way to the Potions Masters' chambers, his eyes hard and his hands steady.

Skidding to a halt, he banged his fist on the man's door, his robes swirling at his ankles. After a moment's silence, the sound of glass slamming on a table echoed through the air, and the heavy oak door swung open.

"What?" the Potions Master sneered, and Kingsley leveled the man with his most intimidating glare.

"Are you – " he began, and a silvery wolf appeared in the corridor, slamming into his side.

 _Kids, GONE_ , Tonks' voice echoed, and Kingsley and Snape looked at each other in silence. Spinning on his heel, Kingsley raced for the stairs, the Slytherin Head right behind him.

* * *

The Three Broomsticks

Hogsmeade, Scotland

November 3rd, 1996

4:55 AM

"You're sure about this?" Ron hissed under his breath, and Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"Madam Rosmerta is fond of Draco," Greengrass explained quietly. "He's allowed to come and go as he pleases."

"Right, great," Harry said shortly, looking around them at the darkened pub, his eyes narrowed. "Let's just go, shall we?"

Malfoy nodded, stepping over to the fireplace. With one hand against the mantle, he threw in a handful of floo powder and hissed under his breath. Jerking his head at Ron, he gestured for the youngest Weasley son to join him.

 _My parents are going to kill us_ , Ron thought distractedly, and he stepped into the green frames with a wince.

The world spun, Ron struggling to hide all reactions as Malfoy raced along through the network beside him. They slammed to the ground in a marble room, stately armchairs all around the space. The walls were barren, save for a single meadow scene.

"Disillusion yourself," Malfoy hissed under his breath, " _now_."

With a steady hand, eyes still scanning the room, Ron tapped his wand onto his head and disappeared. Malfoy moved forward out of the fireplace, and Ron stepped out behind him. The blond Slytherin spun around and pressed his fingers to a snake carving in the center of the mantle, and a few moments later, Luna and Parkinson came through the fire, followed by Ginny and Zabini, then Harry and Greengrass.

Ron muttered darkly to himself as he watched the three Slytherins move through the room. Why the _hell_ did they all have to be here?

Harry moved to Ron's left-hand side, his green eyes narrowed behind his glasses. As he watched, his friend murmured something under is breath – sounded like Arabic – and a soft, glowing golden light began to ooze up the walls toward the ceiling, almost like paint dripping the wrong direction. After a moment, it flashed solid then disappeared.

Zabini and Greengrass looked at each other, startled, and Malfoy whistled low under his breath. "Nice," the Slytherin muttered, and Harry ignored him.

Glancing to Ron and Ginny, as Luna moved over to his side, he said softly, "Should cancel out any monitoring spells."

"Can you get that through the whole Manor?" Parkinson asked sharply, and Harry shot her a muted glare.

"Not without someone noticing," Malfoy answered for him, and the Potter heir nodded shortly.

"It doesn't affect portraits anyway," he said shortly.

Parkinson scowled.

"Okay, just like we talked about," Ron cut in, and everyone turned to look his direction. "Ginny, Zabini, you're on clean-up duty. Find the guards and Ginny, _take them down_." His sister nodded, her face an expressionless mask, and gestured the dark Slytherin to follow her through the doorway. When they hit the exit to the parlor, they tapped themselves on the head with their wands, shimmered a moment, and disappeared.

"Parkinson, Luna," Luna, who had been staring at the walls in abject fascination, turned her huge blue eyes on Ron, and the Slytherin girl rolled her eyes. "You're our escape route. Guard the exit. Take down _anyone_ or anything that approaches that isn't us." Luna smiled, and, still very visible, skipped through the doorway, a muttering Parkinson following her.

Turning to face the remainder, he met Harry's eyes. "Once we hit the dungeons, you and Greengrass get Neville out. We'll get Hermione," he finished, jerking his thumb towards Malfoy, who sighed darkly. "And _you_ ," he said sharply, glaring at Malfoy. "Stay within reach at all times."

Malfoy smirked. "Aye aye, captain," he saluted.

Harry and Ron just looked at each other and sighed. Nodding at Greengrass, Harry unfolded his invisibility cloak and wrapped it around them, and the pair disappeared. With one last glance around the room, Ron _disillusion_ ed himself, then turned and followed Malfoy from the room.

 _This is a bad idea,_ he thought to himself darkly, and he could have sworn he heard Malfoy chuckle ahead of him.

* * *

Ginny moved through the darkness, her wand clutched lightly in her hand, and listened carefully to the sounds around her. Up and to the left three feet, she could hear the faint sound of footsteps and breath, and as she watched, the air rippled slightly.

 _Keep a watch for Zabini_ , her brother's voice echoed in her mind. _We may have to use him for the moment, but don't trust him_.

 _No worry of THAT_ , she thought to herself with a scowl. Ahead of her, the ripple turned a corner, and Ginny watched as it froze in place. She stepped up beside her patrol partner, eyes narrowed.

"There," Zabini hissed. "By the stair." And she peered through the darkness, her eyes landing on a pair of wizards standing by the base of a winding staircase. They paced the corridor, their wands up and their faces pale in the flickering torchlight. Ginny glanced quickly down the corridor, her eyes passing over statues, tapestries, and portraits on the walls. With a furrowed brow, she raised her wand and stared at the tapestry nearest the stairs, her eyes narrowed. Her hand trembled slightly as she trained her wand on the tapestry, and it slowly started to sway back and forth, as if someone had umped it.

"Oy!" one of the guards yelled, stopping in place and turning towards the tapestry. The man ran forward, grabbing at the air frantically, and his partner watched with a dumbfounded expression. Their backs turned, Ginny moved quietly across the corridor and shot a _Stupefy_ at the staring guard, and he slumped to the ground, his face still slack-jawed. A moment later, the other guard joined him on the ground, and the air rustled and shimmered as Zabini moved up to her.

"Why'd you do that with the tapestry?" he asked, and Ginny smiled grimly.

"So they wouldn't see where the spell came from," she replied, and she waved her wand, floating one of the men into the air. She moved quickly down the hall, floating the man into a nearby broom cupboard – _the size of my bedroom, nearly,_ she thought with disgust – and nodded with grudging approval when Zabini followed her lead.

"Impressive, that you can take down Death Eaters that easily," he whispered, and Ginny laughed.

"Those weren't Death Eaters," she said lightly. She moved forward, her eyes trained on the staircase. She recognized this corridor from the map Ernie had drawn – these stairs led to the library.

A pale face flashed through her mind, dark brown eyes edged with red. _There are things more powerful than you know_ , a voice echoed in her mind, _tomes that hold secrets better left forgotten..._

"How do you know?" Zabini asked, and Ginny shook herself free of her thoughts, turning to glare at the empty-air shimmer near her.

"They didn't fire a single spell," she said shortly, and Zabini snorted.

She turned her back on his invisible form, moving further down the corridor with her mind racing.

 _Three more sets of guards_. _And we still need to get Hermione and Neville out. Focus!_

But her mind wandered back to that library as she moved through the corridors. She knew – _knew_ – that there was something in there they needed. She crept around another corner, her Slytherin charge – _babysitting,_ she scoffed – at her side, and stopped dead before a giant portrait of a man sitting atop a dying man's back, almost as if it were a throne.

 _I hate this fucking house,_ she thought angrily, and she spun on her heel and stalked away.

* * *

Harry moved silently through the corridors, taking great care to keep his path straight so as not to step on Greengrass's foot. The invisibility cloak was much more cramped than he remembered it being before – and it didn't help that neither he nor his companion wanted to be so close to each other. With a sigh, he followed along behind Malfoy's sauntering, carefree gait, his eyes peeled for shimmers in the air. He glanced quickly to his right and saw the female Slytherin looking carefully forward, her eyes flickering left and right constantly as she watched for other witches and wizards in the halls.

It didn't make any sense, he thought to himself. Even if he accepted Malfoy's explanation, why were the others helping? It made no sense.

He didn't really care right then.

 _Hermione._

He came to a sudden halt, closing his eyes, and Greengrass stopped with a startled hiss. His head was pounding, and in the back of his mind, he heard a high-pitched voice start to whisper.

 _'What are you doing, Harry?_ ' the voice asked. 'W _hy are you wandering through places where you don't belong?'_

"No," Harry said harshly, and ahead, he saw Malfoy freeze in place as a shimmer of air slammed into his back. "Not NOW!"

"Potter, what the _fuck_ ," Malfoy demanded, as all around them, portraits began to shift in their frames, yelling wildly. To their right, a man in a suit of armor began clanging his helm, "Intruders!" the portrait yelled. "Intruders in the manor!"

"Shut _up_ , you imbecile, I'm a Malfoy!" the Slytherin yelled at the portrait, but it continued to shout. With an angry scowl, he slashed his wand at the frame and the knight shrieked, disappearing from the battlefield image.

"He knows," Harry said simply, his eyes watering as his scar began to burn. "He knows, somehow, he knows we're _here_."

At his side, Greengrass let out a startled cry, and Ron cursed wildly, his invisible form bumping Harry's arm as he moved toward his friend.

"We have to run," Greengrass said frantically, her nails digging into Harry's arm as she grabbed at him. Harry shook her off with a scowl, his eyes flashing as he threw off the cloak.

"I am _not_ leaving without them," he snarled, and Malfoy shook his head.

"He's right, Daph, it's too late. He'll already be almost here – we have to keep going," the Slytherin said in a low hiss.

"The dungeons will probably be the safest place to hide," Ron agreed, and the petite Slytherin girl shook.

"Stay under the cloak," Harry said sharply, wrapping the folds back around her. "And _stay close_."

Ron raised an eyebrow at Harry, and the Potter heir nodded. With a whisper, a silver terrier shot through the air, doubling when it hit the corner. Each one streaked off in a different direction, and Malfoy turned on his heel and moved quickly towards the drawing room. As he stalked through the hallways, Harry and Ron flanking him and no longer hidden, the portraits around them began to whisper and scream. Harry watched Malfoy's back carefully, and as he watched, the Slytherin's shoulders tensed with each step.

They reached the drawing room without an obstacle, and Malfoy slammed the double doors shut behind them. As Ron, Harry and Greengrass stared, the blond teen pressed his wand to the doors, whispering urgently under his breath. The doors glowed blue, then red, then a sickly green, and the Malfoy scion closed his eyes and slumped against the walls.

Harry and Ron glanced at each other, and Malfoy said with a snarl, "Thanks, Potter!"

"Wha – " Ron began, as Harry watched the Slytherin with narrowed eyes and Greengrass backed up a step beside them.

The Slytherin teen opened his eyes, glaring at Harry as every object in the room began to rattle. "If you could have _kept your voice down_ ," the teen hissed, "I wouldn't be caught right now! My family would have _never known_ I helped your sorry arse, and _all my friends wouldn't be in danger!"_

* * *

Pansy stood at an angle, wand held lightly in her fist as she alternated between watching the double doors before them, and the hallway behind them. At her feet, Lovegood waved her wand over and over, a small puff of smoke appearing each time. With each puff, a tiny, glowing moth appeared, and Pansy scoffed as they flew towards the double doors, then through them.

She watched in confusion as moth after moth disappeared, and after about a dozen were gone, with one last puff of smoke, the center of the doors turned opaque, shimmering with the same glow as the moths. With grudging admiration, she stared at the front lawns, tiny moths flitting through the yard, a soft golden light coming from them.

"Pretty," she said scathingly, eyeing the strange witch that was Loony Lovegood. "But not exactly covert."

Lovegood spoke with a soft smile. "They have a purpose. Why are you here?"

Pansy frowned. "What do you mean, why am I here?"

"I mean," Lovegood's singsong voice replied, "you hate us, but you're here, trying to help us save Hermione and Neville. Why?"

Pansy stood there silently for a moment, then shrugged helplessly, no matter that Lovegood couldn't see it. Though, judging from the eerie accuracy of the blonde witch's gaze on her face – maybe she _could_. Pansy shuddered slightly at the strangeness, then with a long-suffering sigh, she knelt on the floor beside the other witch.

"Draco is my best friend," she said simply.

"Your boyfriend?" Luna questioned curiously, and Pansy shook her head.

"Hardly," she replied. "That's a show to keep away the wrong sort of admirers." The little blonde witch laughed and Pansy made a face.

"But you hate us," Lovegood said again, that vague smile still on her face, "and you're risking your lives for us."

"Well," Pansy admitted, "we didn't exactly intend to get caught." With another sigh, she shook her head. "And we don't want you dead. We just – don't want you around us, either."

Lovegood laughed again, a strange, tinkling sound. "That's fair."

Pansy stood carefully, eyeing the hallway around them as Lovegood resumed making moths. "Do you think they should be – "

The sound of the Weaselette screaming cut through the air, and Pansy spun, wand pointing wildly down the hallway. "What – ?"

Lovegood stood suddenly, her huge eyes wide as she stared through the window in the doors.

"No time," the small witch whispered, and Pansy turned to stare at her instead. "He's here."

Pansy's blood ran cold, and she moved forward slightly, peering out the strange portal. Her eyes landed on a group of cloaked figures, moving quickly through the darkness. At their head was a tall, thin figure, glowing red eyes shining in the night.

As she stood there, frozen, a small silver dog careened into them, and Weasley's voice echoed.

 _He's here. Get OUT!_

Pansy grabbed Luna by the wrist and _ran_.

* * *

Hermione sat up slowly from her nest in the cell, her arms shaking as she leveraged upward. Above her, she heard people running, voices shouting and – a startled scream echoed through the air, and ignoring the pain, she jumped to her feet.

 _Ginny_ , she thought, and equal parts relief and terror coursed through her. _They're here_.

She looked wildly towards the edges of the bars as the sound of someone slamming down the corridor came ever closer. Taking a deep breath, she backed towards her nest, crouching down with one hand behind her back. She reached slowly under the blanket and –

– her cell door slammed open, and Dolohov rushed at her, one hand wrapping around her throat. He pulled her to her feet, eyes wild, face twisted with rage.

"You're coming with me, little lioness," he hissed, his lips against her ear, and she gasped as his fingers tightened around her neck. Hermione struggled to breathe as he held her in mid-air, her feet dangling as he crushed her throat. Eyes swimming with tears, she fought frantically for control, her mind fixed on the one thing she had been trying to reach –

Her vision was graying, the blood starting to rush in her ears, and Dolohov laughed. "I'll be damned if I'm – "

Suddenly, his voice cut off in a gurgling hiss, and Hermione dropped to the ground as his hand fell from her throat. With wide eyes, she watched as he collapsed, hand clutching at his throat as blood gushed from his windpipe.

Hermione's lips twitched as she looked at him, a dagger clear through his throat, and she rose on shaking legs.

With a trembling hand, she reached out and yanked his cloak from his frame, wrapping it around herself. Her wand fell from a pocket in the cloak and she smiled. With a sharp tug, she pulled the dagger from his neck and wiped it on his sleeve, before placing it carefully in an inside pocket. A flick of her wand and blue flames roared from the tip, swirling around the Death Eater's body.

Her smile turned grim as she stared at the flames. "I thought you were going to put out my fire," she said quietly.

She walked out of the cell and shut him in behind her, bleeding and burning on the floor.

Then she turned her back, and followed the sound of Neville's screams.

 _Time to go_ , she thought tiredly, and she moved silently through the darkness.

* * *

Ginny threw herself to the ground, panting as blood gushed from her side. With a muttered curse, a jet of flames shot from her wand and the 'pup' yelped, running off down the hall with its tail between its legs. Beside her, another set of heads snarled and she flinched back from the _awful_ breath, spinning on her uninjured side to –

– stare as Zabini shot a blast at the creature, and it collapsed beside her, a large whole rent in its chest.

Ginny let out a shaky breath as Zabini walked over to her, the disillusionment charms long since canceled, and held out his hand to help her up. She grasped his arm and stood shakily, her off-hand pressed to her side, and stared at the carnage around them.

" _Oh, by the way, the Malfoy's are raising Cerberuses!_ " she said in an angry mimickry of his accent. "That would have been a nice bit of information!"

"Cerberi," Zabini corrected her quietly, his brow furrowed as he looked up and down the hallway at the dead pups that surrounded them. "And I _never_ come back here; I didn't know. I doubt Draco did either."

"Well," Ginny said grudgingly, looking down at the blasted Cerberus at her feet, "I guess you're not _completely_ useless."

The dark Slytherin glared at her balefully. "And for _your_ part," he said in an angry hiss, "I'd bet five Galleons that everyone in the building heard you scream. Let's get moving, shall we?"

She brushed her hair back from her face, frowning as she felt blood caked on her fingers, and opened her mouth to retort–

Ron's patronus careened around the corner, slamming into her side, and she let out a pained hiss as –

 _He's here,_ Ron's voice echoed. _Get OUT!_

Zabini met her eyes, his hands trembling, and swallowed. "There are broomsticks in the tower one floor above us," he said in a low voice. "That's probably the closest way out."

Ginny just spun around, and headed down the hall.

"Hey!" Zabini yelled after her. "Wrong WAY!"

* * *

Hermione leaned heavily against the wall, spots dancing in front of her eyes as she drew in another painful breath. Around the corner, she heard the high, ringing tones of Bellatrix Lestrange cutting through the air, and the rasping wheeze of Neville's breathing. She stood silently and listened to Bellatrix footsteps, her eyes narrowed as the crazy bint moved through the cell.

"Let's see what other toys we can come up with, shall we?" the Death Eater giggled, and Hermione gritted her teeth. She stepped around the corner, back straight and head held high, and Lestrange spun around with a shriek.

"You!" the witch screamed, her eyes flashing, spittle flying through the air. "You _dare_ – "

Hermione just jabbed her wand forward, and the witch crumbled to the ground as a jet of red light slammed into her. "Come on," she whispered shakily. "Time to go."

Neville raised his head and peered at her weakly. His eyes were swollen almost completely closed, pus oozing out of one socket There was blood crusted on his ear and his lobe was torn, and bruises and cuts covered his torso. Hermione flinched as he met her eyes. "How – ?" he asked weakly, and she just smiled.

"The others are here. But we don't have long," she said softly. "Let's go."

Neville nodded absently and with shaking hands, he pushed himself to a sitting position. He froze there a moment, gasping, and Hermione stepped forward, pushing the cell door open and moving to his side. She held out her hand and he grasped her arm at the elbow, leveraging himself up with another sharp gasp.

Hermione's vision swam a moment as he pressed into her bones with his grip, and she swallowed carefully to keep from vomiting. After a moment of swaying in place, Neville let go of her arm, looking down at Bellatrix.

The witch lay curled on her side, her cloak flung around herself, and Neville reached down and pulled the cloak loose, much as she had just done to Dolohov, wrapping it around himself. He reached into the pockets and pulled out his wand, a feral grin flashing across his battered face.

"Okay," Neville rasped, "let's go." And he turned and walked out of the cell, stepping down _hard_ on Bellatrix's hand as he went.

Hermione followed with a fond smile.

* * *

"Well I'm sorry, Malfoy," Harry replied bitingly. "I can't always hear my own volume when I have _Voldemort_ talking in my _head_!"

Greengrass turned her head sharply and stared as Ron winced under his breath. But the blond Slytherin just looked blankly back at Harry, an almost bored expression on his face. Raising one eyebrow, Malfoy said, "You should – "

"Shut it," Harry said harshly. "You volunteered for this. We didn't ask."

Malfoy's mouth closed with a sharp _click_.

"He does have a point," Greengrass said hesitantly, and the male Slytherin glared at her balefully.

"Let's just get on with it, shall we?" he said roughly, "before we're all eviscerated."

Crossing the room, Malfoy stopped before a large, cherry wood bookcase. As Harry stared at the char marks on the floor near the doors, the Slytherin reached out and pressed his fingers on the top of a small, bronze statue. The coiled snake gleamed in the dim firelight, its eyes almost seeming to move, and a loud scraping sound began.

Harry tore his gaze away from the burn marks, a sudden sick dread roiling in his stomach. He watched as the bookcase slid away and a long, cavernous tunnel appeared before them.

"Well, this isn't creepy at all," Ron muttered, and Malfoy grinned slightly as he stepped into the tunnel. The youngest Weasley son stepped into the tunnel behind Malfoy, and Harry looked at Greengrass and shrugged.

The pretty Slytherin girl smiled at him shakily, and they stepped into the tunnel together. Behind their backs, the bookcase scraped back to its original position, and they were plunged into darkness.

"This is good," Greengrass said sarcastically. "This is fun."

Harry snorted. With a wave of his wand, the torches around them flared to life, and Greengrass shot him a grateful look as Malfoy and Ron stepped forward.

They moved toward the edge of the path, their eyes narrowed.

"I just want to point out, I've never gone in this way," Malfoy said quietly, his voice a little high. "And this is – a longer route than I thought."

Harry stepped up behind them, and looked down – and down – and down...

Their pathway trailed over to a steep ledge, at least a fifty foot drop.

They stood and stared silently, eyes wide.

"This is good," Ron said suddenly. "This is fun."

Malfoy huffed out an almost laugh, and Harry shook his head. Turning carefully away from the edge, he looked out over the winding path before them.

This was going to take _ages_ , he thought helplessly. Ron clapped him on the shoulder lightly, and he turned to meet his friend's gaze.

"No turning back now," Ron said quietly, and Harry nodded. With a deep sigh, they set off into the darkness, the two Slytherins following close behind.

* * *

Ginny rounded another corner, Zabini yelling after her, and skidded to a halt as she slammed into Parkinson and Luna. With a snarl, the Slytherin girl jerked back from Ginny, dragging Luna with her, before she realized who she had collided with.

Ginny raised an eyebrow, looking from Parkinson's face, to Luna's face, to Parkinson's bruising grip on Luna's arm, and crossed her arms, tapping one foot with a scowl.

Parkinson hurriedly loosened her hold on Luna.

"We need to _go_ , Weaselette," she said harshly. "The Dark Lord – "

Ginny glared at the other girl, and Parkinson shut her mouth with another loud huff.

"We're going after the others," Ginny replied simply.

"You're _mad_!" Parkinson hissed. "There were a dozen Death Eaters, and we don't know _where_ – "

The redheaded witch cut her off with no hesitation. "Luna?"

"Hmm?" the Ravenclaw girl said dreamily, looking up from the glowing moth on her shoulder.

"Bring your Slytherin," Ginny ordered, and Luna smiled.

"Hey!" Parkinson yelled as Luna twisted in her grip, bringing her other forearm down to slam into Pansy's hand. The Slytherin witch yelped as she found herself being propelled down the hallway, Ginny leading and Zabini falling into a grudging lockstep.

"Are you mad?" Parkinson hissed and as Ginny began to turn, Luna spoke quietly.

"He's your best friend," the little Ravenclaw told the black-haired Slytherin. "And he's still down there somewhere."

Ginny glanced back over her shoulder in time to see Parkinson close her eyes, let out a slow breath, straighten her shoulders, and nod.

Luna smiled, and patted Parkinson on the shoulder. She easily let go of Parkinson's arm, and went back to petting her glowing moth as they followed Ginny down the hallway.

Largely ignoring the byplay behind her, Ginny took a fortifying breath, then delved into her memories. Image after image flashed through her mind – Hermione crying on her shoulder, Fred and George laughing as someone turned to a canary, Mum bustling through the kitchen –

– Riddle whispering into her ear, Riddle floating a book before himself as he walked, his nose in the pages, Riddle walking these halls alongside a Malfoy look-alike –

She opened her eyes, took three steps, brushed aside a tapestry, and stepped through the passageway, emerging moments later across from the drawing room.

With a quick press of the carving in the center of the door, shimmering protection spells peeled away, and she walked into the room, Luna, Parkinson and Zabini behind her. The Slytherins shut the doors quickly as Luna looked around curiously, and Ginny moved straight to a large, cherry wood bookcase. With a touch of her hand on a small snake statue, the bookcase slid aside, and Parkinson moved to stand beside her.

They stepped through the doorway, looked down at the cavernous tunnel, and Parkinson let out a startled laugh.

"This is fucking perfect," the Slytherin witch hissed under her breath, and Ginny let out a startled snort of agreement.

Behind them, hurried footsteps sounded, and Zabini and Luna jumped through the opening. As the bookcase slid back in place, Ginny spun on her heel, slashing her palm quickly with her wand, and pressed her bleeding hand to the doorway. She whispered softly under her breath, and the door glowed a soft blue.

Turning back to the path, she said shortly, "Let's go."

Luna stared after her friend.

* * *

Review if you have something to say.

~*~SA


	7. Chapter 6: Black as the Pit

**The Paths We Tread**

 **Chapter 6: Black as the Pit**

 _Malfoy Manor_

 _Wiltshire, England_

 _November 3rd, 1996_

 _5:13 AM_

For once in her life, Hermione could not focus on the problem at hand.

Her legs were shaking. Her lungs and eyes - and other areas, areas that she _refused_ to think about - were burning. Her mind was moving at almost a snail's pace as she looked around the cavern at the expanse of darkness surrounding them.

 _Out of the night that covers me_ , she thought with a bitter laugh.

Neville shot her a worried look out of the corner of her eye, still cradling his arm, and Hermione shook her head to clear it.

It didn't help. She simply felt a touch woozy.

Sighing lightly, she raised her wand and sent out another flare. The red light soared easily three dozen feet in the air, and sparked as it hit a stalactite-covered ceiling.

Snorting, she shook her head again as Neville shifted nervously beside her.

"Maybe we should turn back," he offered quietly, and Hermione frowned. Turning her head slightly to look back over her shoulder, she eyed the huge stone door that they had passed through.

"The footsteps were far too close," she replied after a moment."If we go back, we'll be caught. At least in here," she looked around them with a scowl, her eyes lighting on path after path, winding and twisting every which way, "we stand a chance of losing the people following us."

Neville shrugged, gasping as the motion jarred his arm. "You're the boss," he said simply, and Hermione flinched.

 _I don't want to be the boss_ , she thought sadly. _I'm tired of having to make the hard choices._

"Right," she said instead. "Let's try something." Placing her wand flat in her palm, she murmured the Compass spell under her breath. They both watched as the wand spun and stopped, pointing somewhere off to the right. The path it lit up was steep and windy, moving up the side of a jagged cliff face.

Hermione sighed again. Wand still laying flat in her palm, she closed her eyes, whispered one more spell.

She opened her eyes, and she smiled. And set off towards the path.

Neville fell into step behind her.

* * *

The silver horse disappeared back up the pathway and Ginny narrowed her eyes as she peered through the darkness. Behind her, Parkinson was bickering with Zabini in hushed voices, and Luna was humming under her breath as glowing moths circled her.

Looking back at her friend, Ginny raised an eyebrow, and Luna simply smiled. With a wave of her hand, the little blonde sent the small, glowing creatures flying on ahead, little pinpricks of light brightening up the path.

Zabini stepped up beside her, eyeing the moths. "Are those - alive?" he asked skeptically, his eyes narrowed in distaste as a straggler flittered around the corner.

Luna giggled, smiling dreamily at the Slytherin boy, and poked her fingernail into the wing of a moth floating by her head. The wing shimmered and fell apart, the light that had made it up floating as though underwater, then slowly pieced back together. The Ravenclaw began to hum under her breath again, moving ahead without a care in the world, her eyes fixed on a point down the path and to the left.

Parkinson and Zabini exchanged a look of consternation, and Ginny rolled her eyes and followed.

And pretended not to notice the way Luna kept glancing back at her, over her shoulder as the path wound down the cavern.

* * *

 _Hogwarts_

 _Defense Quarters_

 _November 3rd, 1996_

 _5:15 AM_

The silver horse dissipated and Lupin sat silently in the darkness, watching the embers as the fire died before them. His hands were clenched around a clear glass, amber liquid barely coating the bottom. Beside him, Dora was pressed to his side, her feet tucked underneath her as she leaned on his shoulder.

Shack hadn't moved.

Lupin turned his head and studied his friend worriedly. The burly Auror and he were very different, but had found a common ground in their love of books and affection for their young charges. It amazed him, how deeply Kingsley could devote himself when he found a cause. The man was truly an all-or-nothing type.

His cause was never Voldemort, was never the war, Lupin thought bemusedly. It was protecting the people who were being harmed. Above all else, Shacklebolt was a guardian.

And now, the children they were supposed to be guiding, and protecting, were facing -

He scowled, turning his head back to the fire, absently noting that Kingsley hadn't reacted one bit to his scrutiny. But Lupin had other worries.

 _Harry_ , he thought miserably.

A momentary guilt surged up in him - shouldn't he be more worried about the others? But he was, he knew, he was terrified for Hermione and Neville. _What they must be going through_. And Ron, Ginny, Luna -

But at the core, Harry was the one who mattered. Harry was his last link to his family.

They should be out there.

"Three hours," Shacklebolt muttered, and Dora and Lupin turned to stare. The Auror's voice was hoarse, his eyes haunted. "Three hours, and no matter what orders we have, I am going after them."

Dora smiled, and Lupin felt a feral grin form on his own face.

"Three hours," Dora corrected, "and _we_ are going after them."

* * *

In the hallway, outside the Defense quarters' large stone door, a grey tabby sat quietly, tail flicking every so often.

It was easier, to be a cat just then. Cats didn't feel misery quite the same way as humans did.

Minerva sat silently, her eyes closed as she rubbed her furry head against the stone pillars. Shacklebolt, Dora, and Remus had not emerged since she had shut down their rescue plans. _What they must think of me_ , she thought sadly.

But Albus was down for the count. William was still on the mend. Alastor was -

She whined softly in the darkness.

All able-bodied fighters could _not_ leave Hogwarts. Not now.

She stretched, shook her head, and slinked off down the hallway.

If the children were not back in three hours, she would go get them herself. Consequences be damned.

* * *

 _Malfoy Manor_

 _Wiltshire, England_

 _November 3rd, 1996_

5:30 AM

Ron scowled as they rounded yet another twist in the path. The air was tinged with the smell of stagnant water, his breath crystallizing before him. A strange sense of foreboding filled the air, and he kept his ears peeled for the sound of new footsteps.

Beside him, and slightly ahead, Malfoy walked with a steady gait, his eyes flicking back every so often to check on Greengrass. As he looked forward each time, his gaze would slide over to Harry, and a blank mask would slam down over his pointed features.

Ron scowled as the Slytherin stared at Harry again, clenching his fingers around his wand at his side. _Make a move, Malfoy_ , he thought angrily. _I'm ready for you._

It would be, he thought idly, satisfying to send Malfoy flying over the edge of a cliff under the bastard's own house.

A sudden clatter sounded behind him, and Ron spun around to stare back up the path. Greengrass whipped around as well, eyes wide and wand raised in a shaking hand. Beside him, Malfoy rolled his eyes and kept moving, following Harry.

"Curse me, and I'll throw you over the edge!" an angry voice called, and Ron let out a relieved chuckle as his sister rounded the corner. He lowered his wand, rushing up the path and grabbing her in a crushing hug, Luna smiling at them as Parkinson huffed in the background.

Pushing his sister back, he looked her up and down critically. Cuts, scratches - a worrisome amount of blood on her side and a torn shirt. But eyes alert - and glaring at him, he noted. She would make it.

Ginny settled, he spun again to look for his best mate. Harry was still moving on down the path, muttering under his breath every so often as he waved his wand, golden symbols appearing and disappearing in the air around him. The prat didn't seem to have even noticed the rest of their group had caught up.

Malfoy glanced back at him, a strangely concerned expression on his face, and Ron nodded sharply. Patting Ginny awkwardly on the arm, he turned back to follow his best friend, and his sister and her group fell in behind him.

Three more twists in the path, at least fifty more feet, and Ron fell into lockstep with Malfoy. The blond Slytherin was studying the runes that floated up around Harry, his eyes narrowed in a calculating gaze.

"He knows where he's going," the Malfoy heir muttered under his breath, and Ron shrugged.

"Maybe he's had a vision down here or something," he replied reluctantly, and Malfoy gave him a sharp look. Ron just scowled back, continuing on down the path. He knew, too, that that was unlikely to be the answer. Harry was doing something strange.

That could be really good, he thought worriedly, or really bad.

He shook his head and turned his attention back to the problem at hand. His eyes roved all around them, taking in every shadow, every crevice as the maneuvered carefully down the pathway. Harry seemed to be following some invisible guide, his steps rapid and surefooted, and it didn't look as though the black-haired wizard was even watching where he was going. With a muttered oath, Ron watched as his best friend moved right along the edge of the cliffside, wincing as he stepped away with rock crumbling beneath his feet.

The prat was going to get himself killed!

He upped his pace a bit and came even with Harry, glancing back at Ginny and signaling her to watch their backs. His sister nodded and Ron moved over to Harry's side, carefully crowding the other wizard out so he would have to move more centrally on the path.

Harry never even reacted, still throwing up runes and staring straight ahead, his lips moving silently every so often. After a few tense moments, they came around another bend, and Ron stared.

Before them lay a dark, murky lake, a curious mist rising off the surface. Ron's brow furrowed as he stared at the water, and Harry came to a halt beside him, his eyes finally focusing. His best mate stood perfectly still, his lips moving silently. Behind them, Ginny walked up to the edge with careful footsteps, her eyes narrowed. Luna's moth flitted by her, gliding down to hover by the water's edge.

"What?" Parkinson asked sharply, looking first to Malfoy, then to Ginny and Ron. "What is it?"

Ron just shook his head and pointed. Beneath the water's surface lay hundreds of corpses, their wide, unseeing eyes a solid white. Their skin had a sickly green tinge to it, and here and there, a hand was visible with long, sharp fingernails.

"That explains the smell," Zabini said hoarsely, and Greengrass whimpered.

"Quietly," Ginny hissed, shooting the two Slytherins a glare.

Harry nodded, finally speaking. "I think you have to disturb the water to wake them," he whispered. "But might as well be cautious."

Parkinson shot him an incredulous look, and Ron laughed quietly. " _Cautious_ " _doesn't usually describe Harry_ , he thought to himself, but he shook his head and said softly, "Right, then. Stay away from the edge, everybody. Would be a right mess if we knocked a pebble into the water or something."

Malfoy let out a strangled laugh as Luna nodded seriously, slipping her free hand into Harry's. " _By the way, son_ ," Malfoy said in a high, frantic whisper, " _there are_ _ **Inferi**_ _in our basement, thought you ought to know!"_

Ginny let out a snort and set off down the path ahead of the rest, and Ron followed carefully, one eye following Harry's progress.

He could feel it. Something was - _off_ with his best mate.

* * *

Neville muttered darkly to himself as he stepped on a loose stone, the pathway sliding under his feet. He pitched slightly sideways, bumping into the rock wall with his hurt arm, and his vision went grey. Swallowing frantically, he held back the bile and closed his eyes, taking a deep, steadying breath.

 _One, two, three, four, five_ , he counted to himself slowly, then opened his eyes.

Hermione was a few paces ahead, not seeming to have noticed that he had faltered. Her eyes were fixed on a point far ahead and she was waving her wand every so often, shooting off spells into the darkness. With a grunt of effort, Neville righted himself and set off at a fast clip down the path. He overtook her after several minutes and slowed his pace to match her, eyes narrowed as he took in their surroundings.

The darkness seemed even _more_ bleak somehow, and there was a sickly, pungent smell growing stronger in the air around them. Ahead, he could see a dip in the path, and Hermione shot off another flare towards the ceiling.

Several meters ahead lay a murky lake, and Neville swallowed back bile again. It was too far off to see beneath the surface - but suddenly, he knew what that smell was.

Hermione skidded to a halt, her eyes fixed on the cliffside up and to their left. Along the edge of the cliff, a tiny, glowing speck flew, and Neville felt a sudden rush of hope.

The speck suddenly soared towards them, becoming a large blob, then clearly, a glowing moth, and Hermione smiled.

"They're up ahead," she whispered, and gritting her teeth, she pushed forward towards the path ahead once more.

Neville tightened his good hand around his wand, and followed.

* * *

"What _is_ that thing?" Pansy hissed to Lovegood as they moved down along the path. The airheaded little blonde shot her a serene smile, watching the progress of her little light creature across the cavern.

"It's a watcher," she replied in a singsong voice, and Pansy gritted her teeth. She glanced back over her shoulder and eyed Daphne critically. Her friend was moving slowly and nervously, her arms slightly raised on either side and her eyes fixed on her feet. The pitiful thing.

As Pansy turned her attention back to the loony beside her, Lovegood continued, "It looks around and shows me what it sees."

"You mean," Pansy stared, "you can _see_ through that thing?" With narrowed eyes, she stared after the speck of light, and Lovegood giggled. They walked carefully down another incline, finally coming to level ground, and Pansy breathed a sigh of relief.

For only a moment, because -

"Brilliant," Malfoy muttered. "Now we're only feet away from the _**Inferi Lake**_."

"We'll be fine," Weaselette said sharply. "Stay away from the edge, move carefully, speak _quietly_ \- "

Daphne squeaked suddenly, her left foot slipping out from under her, and she shrieked as she started to pitch to the left. With a shout, Weasley dove for her, the gangly redhead catching her arm and pulling her back. Rocks and dirt went flying and the pair stumbled back from the edge. They fell back against the rock wall behind them, Weasley's arm wrapped around Daphne's waist, and the little blonde girl clinging to his arm with both her hands. Trembling, the small Slytherin stared down at the water's edge, and everyone else froze.

A sudden snarling echoed through the cavern, then another, and another. Weaselette shot the Slytherins a poisonous glare and Pansy felt herself go cold.

"Luna!" Weaselette said sharply, and the strange Ravenclaw girl shot forward toward the edge, grasping Weaslette's hand.

The two girls threw up their free hands, closed their eyes, and began to chant. Beside them, Potter had pulled a small stick from his pocket and, with a wave of his wand, it became a large, ornate staff. Weasley did the same, and each of the Gryffindor boys conjured roaring flames on either end of the staves.

"Get back," Potter said tersely, and Blaise stepped forward and tugged insistently on Pansy's arm. Shaking him off with a glare, she drew her own wand and took a shaky breath

Daphne whimpered, sinking back against the rock wall, and Blaise stepped in front of her as Malfoy continued to stare over the edge.

"Draco!" Pansy said sharply as the snarling grew louder, and a sudden scrambling sound rose.

The Malfoy heir started, his eyes wide and his face chalky white, and drew his wand with a nod.

Hands still clasped at the edge of the water, Lovegood and the Weaselette suddenly shouted, " _Flammas proesidium!"_

A sudden blast of heat filled the cavern and Pansy's eyes watered as a ring of flames surrounded the group. She gasped, staring, as a bony hand appeared on the edge of the path and the Weaslette jumped forward with a snarl, a fire whip shooting from her wand and wrapping around the Inferi. The creature screamed and fell back, and the resounding chorus of unearthly shrieks grew louder.

The redhead's brother jumped up and ran to her side as Pansy watched, his staff held parallel before him as he glared down the path's edge. To their right, Luna stood alone, her hands still raised and staring steadily at the circle of fire.

 _Like hell, I'm going to be rescued by a bunch of Lions and stand here like a damsel!_ Pansy thought angrily, and with a muttered oath, she jumped forward, flames springing from the end of her wand as another dead thing scrambled onto the path.

Behind her, Draco sighed, and followed.

* * *

The screams echoed through the cavern and Hermione froze, her eyes wide, and spun to stare at the lake to their right. The water, previously still and eerie, was rippling and sloshing at the edges, and Neville groaned at her side.

They were awake.

As Hermione watched, a hand appeared at the edge of the lake, and a small zombie-like creature crawled out of the water. She stared in horror, her face pale and her eyes swimming with tears as the little girl corpse stumbled across the rocks.

" _Flagrante_!" she shouted, and the baby Inferius burst into flames, an unearthly shriek echoing through the chamber. She spun around quickly as another unholy scream sounded, and her eyes fixed on the pathway ahead.

" _Videre_ ," Hermione hissed as Neville stepped up behind her, practically back-to-back as he watched the water carefully. She narrowed her eyes as a jet of soft blue light shot out of her wand, and suddenly, the cliff's edge came into clear focus.

Scrambling up the cliff face were hundreds of dead things, snarling and knocking each other down in their rush to make it up the side. And standing above them, Hermione saw the tiny forms of her best friends. Harry stood at the front, his staff on fire as he shoved aside Inferi one after the next, with Ron and Ginny a couple feet away, Ron knocking Inferi down as Ginny shot flames at the ones coming up the side. A little ways past, she could make out the a blonde head and a ring of flames -

Their friends were in trouble.

"We have to get up there," Hermione said sharply, and she met Neville's gaze over her shoulder. "Can you run?"

Neville gave her a tight grin. "Once," he replied, and they bolted for the cliff. A new chorus of snarls echoed through the air as the dead rose from the lake and followed them.

* * *

"How many _are_ there?" Ron shouted angrily, and Ginny huffed in agreement. "Bloody hell, Malfoy, you just _had_ to lead us into the zombie pit!"

"Right!" Malfoy yelled back, eyes narrowed as he shot a flame whip towards a female Inferius that was closing in on their fire ring. "Because _this_ is my idea of a good time!"

Harry laughed suddenly, and with a wave of his hand, a sheet of flames fell through the air in front of them, taking down dozens of the dead. The creatures screamed and fell, landing with a distant _thud_ on the cavern floor, and their fellows raced over and around their smoldering bodies, diving for the cliff side.

A bony hand grabbed suddenly at his ankle and Ron shouted hoarsely. The creature _pulled_ and Ron was knocked off balance, his staff falling from his hand and his wand rolling across the ground. Ginny yelled, diving towards him with her wand pointed straight at the edge -

And a sudden concussive blast knocked them all back. Ron fell backwards, the breath knocked out of him, and Ginny landed by his side as Harry and Luna stumbled, somehow keeping their balance. Behind him, he heard the Slytherins shout, and he squinted through the sudden debris in the air.

Hermione looked at him, hair matted and her small frame wrapped in a too-big robe, and raised an eyebrow. " _What_ is going on here?" she asked sharply, and Neville huffed a laugh at her side.

Ron propped himself up on his elbows as the others stared at Hermione with varying looks of disbelief. "We're saving you," he said simply, and Hermione grinned.

"I see that," she replied, and lowering her wand, she looked around with a critical glance as the others pushed to their feet. Ron snatched up his wand and staff and carefully levered himself up, his eyes narrowed on the edge.

"That will have woken all of them up," Harry said simply, looking over at Hermione carefully, and Neville grunted.

"They're all awake, trust me," the stocky Gryffindor replied, and Ron winced as he looked at the other boy's swollen face.

"So now what?" Parkinson asked sharply. "We can't go down that way clearly - "

"And Voldemort and company are back the way we came," Ginny finished.

Neville paled slightly and Hermione levelled Parkinson with a flat stare. Inwardly, Ron felt himself do a little happy dance. Malfoy was right, the fucker. Hermione wasn't broken.

He glanced at Harry, and his best friend looked back at him steadily, his green eyes blank.

Dolohov would still pay, Ron thought silently

"Did I miss something?" Hermione asked blandly, her gaze sweeping from Parkinson, who glared back, to the dusty and sweaty Malfoy, giving her a blank stare, to Zabini and Greengrass hanging back near the wall.

Ginny moved over to Hermione's side with a narrowed glare at the others. "We're still figuring that out ourselves," she said quietly, as she looked Hermione up and down. "Hermione I'm so -"

"There's a way out," Hermione cut Ginny off suddenly, turning to look at Harry and Ron. "I saw it when we were down below."

"Great," Harry replied instantly, an odd look on his face. "Where?"

Hermione grimaced, and Ron felt a sinking dread. "Don't say it," he pleaded.

"Okay," Neville shot back. "I'll say it. We have to get around the water, because it is in the far corner behind the lake."

"Of course it is," Zabini groaned, and Malfoy's jaw ticked. Hermione simply turned her head and looked at them, and Zabini backed up a step. Ron and Harry grinned openly.

"Did you lose my bloody knife, Granger?" Malfoy suddenly burst out, and Harry, Ron, Neville and Ginny spun to stare at him as Luna smiled serenely. Hermione just arched her brow again and reached into folds of her robes, pulling out a long, thin dagger.

Malfoy eyed it critically, gazing for a moment at the dried blood on the tip, and the corner of his lip twisted up. Ron simply stared at Hermione, Ginny and Harry nodding beside him. In silence, Hermione flipped the knife in her hand and held it out, hilt first, to Malfoy.

The blond Slytherin took the knife from Hermione and wiped it on his robes, tucking it easily into his belt. "Did you figure out how to use it?" he asked sardonically, and Hermione smirked back at him.

"I got by," she replied easily. Turning her back on him, she looked straight at Harry and Ron. "Time to go."

* * *

"Hermione," Ginny said sharply. " _Hermione_!"

The brunette girl finally looked her way, a curious look on her face as she maneuvered carefully around another cave-in on the trail. Behind her, she could hear Neville huffing along with an occasional pained gasp, and Malfoy and the other Slytherins scoffing behind him. Further back stalked Ron, keeping an eye on the rest of the group as Luna walked alongside Harry.

"Yes, Ginny, what?" Hermione asked lightly, and Ginny glared at her.

"I just - "

"Just wanted to apologize to me, because you think that I was captured because of your plan to get caught on purpose?" Hermione replied, turning to face the redhead next to her, and Ginny paled beneath her freckles.

"I - "

"Because," Hermione continued, "that's very foolish of you, Ginny, considering that we took _every_ precaution, and you know, I've had a really bad week," Here, her voice broke, "and I would really like my _friend_ right now, not someone who is off wallowing in guilt over something that isn't their fault."

Ginny swallowed and stared at Hermione, her eyes bright with tears, "What did - ?"

"No," Hermione cut her off again. "Not now. Not here. I can't..." She trailed off again, shaking her head. With a shaking hand, she swatted a loose tendril of hair away from her face. "We need to focus. Just - enough, alright? No apologies."

Ginny nodded roughly, her eyes trained on Hermione's shaking hand, and the brunette girl sighed, tucking her free hand into her pocket and tightening her grip on her wand with the other hand. Ginny shot her an apologetic look, and Hermione forced a shaky smile.

 _This is why people don't tell their loved ones_ , Hermione thought to herself with a sigh, and she turned back and continued down the path.

The air was getting cooler, with that horrible smell growing ever stronger, and Hermione looked cautiously over the edge of the cliffside. Below, she could see another crowd of zombie-like creatures gathering, and a chill ran through her. All the horrors she had faced in the wizarding world, and the dead terrified her the most.

 _Just focus_ , she thought to herself, and she hurried her pace to catch up with Harry. Behind her, she heard the others hurrying up to them. They skidded to a halt at a break in the path, where the walkways wound off in five different directions.

"Do you remember that spell Bill showed us in our last trip to Shell Cottage?" she asked shrilly, and Harry stared at her.

"We already used the flame shield, Hermione," he replied immediately. "It didn't exactly do much but keep them out of a certain - "

Hermione shook her head and smiled. "Not _that_ one. Remember when he was talking about transfiguring your water?"

Harry stared at her, brow furrowed. "What, into rum? He was just funning with you, Hermione - he thinks it's hilarious when you get all -"

Hermione just looked at him, and Ron looked down over the edge of the cliffside, then turned to Hermione.

"Transfigure the lake?" Ron asked slowly.

"What? Into _what_?" Harry asked.

Hermione smiled, and Ron looked at her with deepening understanding.

"Kerosene," they said at the same time, and Harry stared.

Malfoy looked over from where he was leaning against the wall and sneered. "Potter, if you blow up my house, you're buying me a new one!"

"Still have to make it to the bottom," Harry pointed out, ignoring Malfoy, and Luna smiled.

"Leave that to me," she said lightly. "I've been saving a trick Charlie taught me. It uses a lot of energy. But if we have a plan now -"

"Go ahead," Harry replied urgently, and Luna smiled dreamily. Raising her wand, she moved to the edge of the group and closed her eyes. A deep breath -

Suddenly, there were twelve Harrys standing next to her. Then ten Rons. Thirteen Hermiones -

"Bloody hell," Ron whispered, and Hermione nodded in shock. Luna simply continued along, conjuring replicas of each one of them, then stared steadily at the group, her eyes focused on the first in each uneven line. After several moments of silent staring, the fake Harrys and Rons and Hermiones and Parkinsons all began moving, and the others followed suit.

With a wave of her hand, she sent them all away. One group of fake Harry, fake Greengrass, fake Ginny and fake Neville went up the path to their right, heading towards a steeper cliff. A group of fake Ron, fake Parkinson, fake Malfoy and fake Ginny doubled back up the path the way they came. The rest scattered, and Luna smiled.

Turning back to the others, she said with a slight gasp. "There. That should serve as distraction."

Hermione just stared at her, then, after a quick glance at Harry and Ron, turned and started down the _right_ path. Behind them, the snarling and skittering sounds started again, as the Inferi chased after and latched onto their copies. She glanced back over her shoulder in time to see a creature grab one of her copies. It moved to rip the fake Hermione's arm off - and the copy vanished. Hermione let out a shaky breath and continued onward as the Inferi's indignant scream echoed through the cavern.

* * *

They were twenty feet from the tunnel Hermione had spotted, and - hopefully - freedom.

"Here?" Ron asked softly, as they stopped at the water's edge. Hermione looked around as the others gathered, her eyes narrowed as she took in the water's surface. The lake was mostly empty - which begged the question, how to get the Inferi _back_ in the water?

It had been at least thirty minutes, and the Inferi had destroyed nearly every copy of them that existed. Fittingly, only one remained - a fake Harry was still flitting around near the mouth of the cavern. Finally, the last copy was 'killed' and Hermione stood stock still, staring through her magnifying spell as the Inferius turned and started to slink back towards the lake.

"We need to move," she said softly. "They're coming back."

With a startled glance, Harry grabbed Luna by the wrist as Ginny grabbed Hermione, and they all moved back towards the wall of the cavern. Quickly, Harry, Ron and Hermione cast spells covering their sound and scent and the group leaned back against the rock wall as closely as they could. As they watched, the creatures slinked past them, shuffling towards the water and sinking beneath the surface. Their grunts and groans echoed off the walls as they were submerged, and Hermione felt a chill race through her. _Question answered_ , Hermione thought to herself. _They put themselves back_.

"There are thousands of these things," she breathed in disgust, and she felt Ginny nod beside her.

"Animating the dead against their loved ones was his favorite form of psychological torture," the redhead whispered back. Hermione shot her a look and Ginny just smiled tightly. "Not now, Hermione," she said, a gentle teasing lilt to her voice. "Not here."

Hermione sighed and nodded, a wry smile twisting her face. She shifted slightly in place and hissed as a fiery pain shot through her arm along the vein.

 _Bloody hell,_ she thought. _It hasn't been a week yet_!

"Hermione?" Ginny asked questioningly, and Hermione shook her head. Fifteen minutes later, silence echoed through the cavern, the water stopped rippling, and Hermione stepped forward. Moving towards the lakes' edge, she pointed her wand towards the expanse of water, and took a deep breath.

" _Aqua ad oleum_ ," she chanted quietly, her minds' eye focused on a lake full of dark kerosene. " _Aqua ad oleum. Aqua ad oleum_!"

The water rippled, then darkened, then slowly, a thick swath of kerosene began to spread across the surface. It sank and spread throughout the lake, the smell making her lightheaded. She watched with bated breath, Harry and Ron stepping up beside her, all of them staring at the surface.

Not a ripple.

Letting out a shaky breath, Hermione raised her wand once more. " _Incendio_!" she said softly. The jet of flames shot across the cavern and sparked on the edge of the lake, flaring instantly and overtaking the entire surface. Unearthly screams echoed through the cavern as a huge billow of smoke unfurled, and Hermione and the others gasped as the cavern went instantly from extremely cold to unbearably hot.

A handful of the creatures had fled the lake somehow, still aflame but running around aimlessly. As she watched, one of them managed to _put itself out_ \- were they that intelligent? She stared blankly and suddenly, she saw a jet of red light out of the corner of her eye. She shouted a warning, pushing Ginny to the side -

And then, nothing but darkness.

* * *

With a sudden, soft " _Oh_!" Hermione slumped, tumbling to the ground. Malfoy leapt forward almost reflexively, catching the brunette witch before she bashed her head on the rocks. With a grunt, the blond Slytherin pulled Hermione into a seated position, and Luna rushed over to them as Harry and Ron spun and began firing spells off towards their attackers. Ginny moved alongside them, instantly throwing up shields.

A flash of purple light shot from Harry's wand and he heard a distant scream. Smiling grimly, he watched as one of the Death Eaters tumbled off the cliff, landing with a sharp cracking noise on the edge of the lake. A sick sense of satisfaction spread through him as he watched the Inferi descend on the Death Eater.

 _If he wasn't dead already, he is now_ , Harry thought with a twisted smirk, shaking his head as Luna's relieved sigh brought him back to reality.

"She's only unconscious," she said quietly, and Neville frowned with worry as Parkinson and the others looked on.

"Should we revive her yet?" Neville asked, and Harry shot him a questioning look as Ron glanced back over his shoulder, still raining spells down on the cliff. "She _is_ badly hurt, maybe - "

"Maybe we can't exactly be carrying her right now, Nev, and using a stretcher spell would tie up a wand," Ron cut in, grunting under his breath as a sickly green light whizzed by them and hit a nearby rock, disintegrating it. "We need to move _now_."

Luna nodded hesitantly, and quickly murmured " _Ennervate_." Harry watched Hermione's face closely, Malfoy still bracing the Gryffindor girl up.

Nothing.

"Ginny," Luna said sharply, and Ginny dropped her shield charm over the group, crossing straight to Luna. Behind her, Parkinson and Zabini stepped forward, casting an immediate _Protego_ over the group, and Harry eyed them nervously. Greengrass scooted closer to Harry, her eyes wide and frightened, and Harry scowled at the girl.

 _Nothing reminds me how lucky I am to have Hermione, Luna, and Ginny around more than_ _ **this girl**_ , he thought darkly. As he watched, Ginny put her hand on Luna's shoulder, and Luna reached back with her free hand and clasped the redhead's hand. The blonde Ravenclaw murmured under her breath and a sudden light bathed both their hands, and Luna closed her eyes and whispered once more, " _Ennervate!_ "

"But - " Ginny said worriedly, her eyes on Hermione's still face. Luna shook her head, and Harry's brow furrowed in confusion.

"She's breathing," Luna said quietly. "But she won't wake."

"Maybe S - maybe _he_ was right," Ron said angrily. "Maybe that tosser Dolohov changed it."

"Changed what?" Neville asked sharply, and Harry shot him a quelling look.

"We need to get her out of here, _now_ ," Luna said, her voice sharp. With an unusually direct gaze, as an orange spell sparked off the rocks behind her, Luna looked at Malfoy. "Can you carry her the rest of the way?"

"What?" Harry and Ron spluttered at once, Ron completely abandoning his spellfire. Neville swore loudly and stumbled forward, his wand shaking in his hand as he picked up where Ron left off.

Luna didn't even glance at them. Staring steadily at Malfoy, who suddenly looked pale, she said decisively, "Neville is injured. I can't physically carry her, and I need to be able to shield and medic anyway. Ginny, Harry and Ron are our strongest fighters. I doubt Daphne or Pansy could carry her, and I don't know Blaise." Behind her, the dark Slytherin raised an eyebrow, shaking his head as he kept his wand pointed straight forward.

Ron just stared, slack-jawed. "I'll - "

"No, Ron, she's right," Harry said suddenly, swallowing back a protest as he stared at Luna and Hermione on the ground. He looked at Malfoy, and the blond Slytherin slowly looked away from Luna's piercing gaze to meet Harry's eyes. "Malfoy, can you carry her the rest of the way out or not."

Malfoy gritted his teeth and, tucking his wand into the edge of his right sleeve, crouched down to lift Hermione's still form off the ground. A shocked look flitted across his face as he lifted her, but was gone in an instant.

"When she wakes up, she's going to punch me again," he muttered darkly, and Harry found himself laughing.

Ginny just looked back and forth between Malfoy's face and Hermione's, her jaw clenched and her hands balled into fists. "Let's _go_ ," she said tightly and spinning on her heel, she stalked towards the tunnel.

Malfoy shot Harry a surprisingly startled look, and the Potter heir shrugged.

Resolving silently to ignore Malfoy unless he did something, Harry nodded at Luna and the pair of them shot up a dome shield. Ron, Parkinson, Zabini, and Neville backed carefully away from the edge of the water, their eyes peeled for anything following. Five paces back, then ten, and they spun and went after Ginny. Greengrass stayed at Harry's elbow, and Harry sighed as Luna smiled knowingly.

Up ahead, Ginny moved through the darkness, her wand slashing back and forth and cutting down the vines creeping along the walls. Neville stumbled forward, breathing harshly with his hurt arm tucked to his side, and moved alongside her, shooting flames and cutting curses at the Devil's Snare. Harry fell in behind them, his wand at the ready for any creature or person lying in wait, with Luna at his heels and Malfoy with Hermione next to her. Behind him, he could hear the stumbling footsteps and muttered curses of the other three Slytherins, with Ron snarling at them to hurry up.

This was, Harry thought to himself, becoming too easy suddenly.

Then the ground began to shake beneath his feet, and he asked himself _why_ he had cursed them so.

* * *

"Nice, Potter!" Pansy barked a laugh, and Potter shot a glare back over his shoulder. The black-haired witch laughed again, turning and shooting another cutting curse at the clearly dead cerberus. Potter just _hissed_ in response, and the serpents creeping towards them scattered, disappearing through crevices in the walls.

Behind them, Weasley stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Draco, the Slytherin's free hand holding his wand straight ahead under Granger's limp form. Both teens were breathing harshly, their eyes wide and startled.

"Good shot," Weasley said grudgingly, and Draco nodded.

"Thank you," he said simply.

"I still hate your guts," Weasley finished, and Draco smirked.

"Likewise, Weasel." Sliding his wand back up his sleeve, he raised one knee to brace Granger, then shifted her in his arms.

 _She's too light_ , he thought distractedly as his eyes roved the tunnel. Daphne had stopped bouncing back and forth between him and Potter, and seemed to have chosen Longbottom - _really, Daph_? - as her protector now. She hovered at his side, now and again glancing at his face as though she wanted to say something.

The sounds of snarling and shuffling were faded now, and Draco almost dared to think maybe they were getting close to the end. No Death Eater or wizard had followed them into the tunnels, either.

But was that a good sign or a bad sign?

He shook his head to clear it, glancing down a second as Granger whined slightly. He tightened his grip around the girl, careful not to jostle her, and ignored the whispering voice in the back of his mind.

He was just trying to get her out alive. _It doesn't matter right now that she's a Mudblood_ , he told himself. _After we get out of here, everything can go back to_ _ **normal.**_ _I don't have to be bloody_ _ **friends**_ _with the chit._

Nodding to himself, he turned his attention back to the path ahead.

"Do you feel somewhat conflicted about that?" he heard Potter asking Weasley. "I mean - Fluffy was a nice enough dog, wasn't he?"

Weasley snorted back. "Alright, Hagrid," he replied, clapping Potter on the shoulder, and the pair chuckled a moment. They turned another bend and -

"Light!" Daphne shouted, and the girl darted forward with a delighted squeal, racing towards the entrance. Blaise stepped in her path and grabbed the girl around her waist, pulling her back forcibly.

"Honestly, Daph!" the Italian wizard scoffed. " _Think_!"

Beside him, Pansy rolled her eyes.

The little blonde Slytherin pouted and slunk back to Longbottom's side, the lumbering Gryffindor giving her an unnerved look. Ignoring his reaction, Daphne slid her hand through the crook of Longbottom's good arm and leaned into his side.

Blaise looked at Draco a moment and they both sighed. _Poor bloke_ , Draco thought in amusement. _You've been targeted, Longbottom_!

To his right, Lovegood moved forward and walked carefully across the uneven ground, coming to a halt beside the crack in the wall. She ran her fingers lightly down the wall, seeming to trace something etched into the stone. "I don't recognize these Runes," she said quietly. Glancing back over her shoulder, she raised an eyebrow. "Harry?"

Potter heir stepped forward and leaned over the little barmy Ravenclaw, his eyes narrowed as he stared at the wall. Resting his hand flat on the wall, he closed his eyes and whispered something under his breath. Draco watched with narrowed eyes as a sudden light pulsed in the wall, and Potter stepped back.

"Blast it," he said decisively. Weasley and the Weaselette glanced at each other, raised their wands, then both in unison -

" _Bombarda!"_

Daphne shrieked, ducking as rock and debris flew every direction. The others simply covered their faces, Pansy leaning over Granger in Draco's arms to shield her as well.

"It's clear," Potter said sharply, and he stepped through the opening and into the lawn. He stood a moment in the rising dawn, wand raised as his eyes roved over their surroundings, and shot a couple revealing spells off in the distance. Finally, he nodded, and the Weaselette and Lovegood stepped through, Draco right behind them with Granger still held carefully in his arms.

"Do we have to make it off the grounds to use a Portkey?" Weaselette asked him sharply, and Draco nodded. Weasley huffed, sharing an annoyed look with his sister, but none of them looked surprised.

"Let's just _go_ already," Pansy said shrilly. "We've gotten lucky so far, and not run into anyone who - "

Suddenly, Potter froze, his hand pressing to his forehead, and Draco cursed darkly under his breath.

"Move," Longbottom said forcefully, glaring at the others. "NOW. Ron?"

Weasley nodded and grabbed Potter's shoulder, steering the Prat-Who-Lived carefully in the direction that Pansy pointed. With a put-upon sigh, the black-haired girl led Weasley and Potter carefully through the garden - _what a place for a secret underground cavern of Inferi to let out_ , Malfoy thought idly - towards the edges of the property. They approached the treeline and suddenly Potter let out a pained groan, and Draco felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck.

Looking back over his shoulder, he saw the Dark Lord standing in the garden, none other than Lucius Malfoy at his side. The man was smiling, a horrible, twisted smile, and his red eyes glowed eerily in the dim light. Draco swore under his breath as the Dark Lord's gaze fixed on him, and a pale eyebrow rose on the wizard's face.

"You had to say it," he muttered darkly, glaring at Pansy, who stared back at him with a pale face.

"Let's _go_ ," Longbottom repeated, his eyes narrowed, and he moved to limp along _behind_ Draco and Granger, his wand raised in the direction of the Dark Lord.

They hit the treeline and suddenly a howl broke through the trees, and Draco froze, Daphne bumping into him. "It's not a full moon," he said dumbly, and Potter, seemingly functional again, shook his head.

"No, it's not," Potter agreed, his eyes narrowed, and he stared off into the woods.

"If it's not a full moon, then how - ?"

"Does it _matter_?" Weaselette asked irritatedly, and Draco swallowed convulsively.

"Let's just _go_ ," Longbottom said again, and Draco shot him a look. The Longbottom heir looked as anxious as he was, his am pressed into his side, his lips white and his eyes bloodshot. The burly Gryffindor swayed in place as he stood there, his face tinged with green.

Up ahead somewhere, the howls grew louder, and a sudden crashing began to sound through the underbrush. Draco bit his lip to keep from whimpering.

Shaking her head, the Weaselette stepped forward and grabbed Longbottom's good arm gently, slinging it over her shoulders. Longbottom let out an audible sigh of relief as he slumped against her frame, and Malfoy scoffed.

He glanced back over his shoulder, back at the silently watchful red eyes.

"Get the Portkey going, Ginny," Weasley hissed, and Weaselette shot her brother a baleful glare. The redheaded Gryffindor girl glanced quickly over at Granger - with Draco copying her and looking down to see if the girl was still breathing - then pulled a medallion from her pocket.

Prodding the medallion with her wand, Weaselette whispered quickly under her breath, then muttered, "Okay, grab on, NOW!" She grabbed Draco's left shoulder, leaving his hands free, and everybody else grabbed onto him or Weaselette.

" _Portus_!" she shouted, just as a giant, rabid creature dove through the bushes, and in a swirling flash of light, they all shot up into the air.

Draco groaned as they were tossed around in a circle, Longbottom passing out fully beside the Weaselette. He felt as if his insides were turning to mush - _we weren't far enough from the wards_ , he thought frantically. Suddenly, a huge pressure seemed to build up around them - it felt like his ears were going to explode, his eyes were burning - it felt as if they hit a rubber wall and bounced back -

They slammed to the ground, and Draco went down on one knee as he wrapped his arms fully around Granger. The battered girl squeaked as she rolled forward, whimpering quietly. Leaning over her, he managed to pull them both back up into a stable position and he rocked back on his heels, quickly righting the girl's lolling head. Even unconscious, that couldn't have felt good.

Draco swallowed back bile, shoving his hair away from his face with his free hand as he heard the whispers and muttering break out around them. Looking up, he swore darkly.

They had landed in the Great Hall, at the beginning of breakfast.

Beside him, Weaselette was crouched over Longbottom, who had fully collapsed onto the floor. Weasley was pulling Potter into a standing position as Pansy and Lovegood struggled to their feet, and Blaise and Daphne had apparently decided to just lay down a while. As he watched the room through narrowed eyes, Snape and Shacklebolt swept down from the Head table, with McGonagall and Dumbledore on their heels. From a side door, the elder Weasleys and their oldest son raced through, and Draco sneered.

The oldest Weasley son descended on Potter and the youngest Weasel boy, clasping both their shoulders as the Weasley parents skidded over to Weaselette and Longbottom. Beside them, McGonagall and Dumbledore stood over Lovegood, Pansy and his friends, eyeing them with varying looks of confusion.

Snape and Shacklebolt stopped before Draco, Snape's arms moving as if-

"Give her here, Draco," Shacklebolt said smoothly, and Draco shot him a look before pushing carefully to his feet. The Auror took Granger from his arms gently and turned from the Hall immediately, likely heading straight for the infirmary. Shaking off the eldest Weasley son, Potter and Weasley took off after them, with Pomfrey appearing behind floating Longbottom on a stretcher.

Draco turned his head and simply looked at his Head of House. The man just stared back at him, silent. Shaking his head, Draco turned on his heel.

 _Everybody saw this_ , he thought angrily. _Everyone_.

He strode for the entrance, suddenly in a fury. "All this over a Mudblood," he snarled, and Potter and Weasley froze in the doorway.

He stopped, raising his eyebrow and looking at their backs challengingly, as Potter turned and met his gaze. The eldest Weasley son had caught up, and grabbed onto Weasel's arm and started pushing him towards the door.

"Malfoy," Potter said evenly.

"What?" the Slytherin snarled, his face flushing as whispers broke out around them again.

"Thank you for what you did."

Draco stared. After a moment, while Potter and the rest of the Hall watched him silently, he nodded shortly.

"And Malfoy?" Potter added, and Draco sighed.

"What," he said dully, and Potter full-on _grinned_ at him.

"If I ever hear you say the word "Mudblood" again, I will rip out your tongue."

And with that, Potter turned away and followed the hospital procession.

Draco stood there, unmoving, and stared at the entrance where they had walked away. Behind him, he heard Pansy's heels clicking on the floor and he swallowed carefully, closing his eyes.

He opened his eyes again, turned to face Pansy, held out his arm. She linked her arm through his, smiled, and they walked out of the Hall.

 _Everybody_ , Draco thought miserably. _Everybody saw._

* * *

 ** _A/N: Two things:_**

 ** _1\. NO, this is not going to be Dramione._**

 ** _2\. Review if you have something to say!_**

 ** _~*~SA_**


	8. Chapter 7: On My Way Down

**The Paths We Tread**

 **Chapter 7:**

 **On My Way Down**

 _Chamber of Secrets_

 _Hogwarts_

 _November 3rd_ _, 1996_

 _10:30 PM_

Ron stood silently in the dim light, a large wooden chest cradled in his arms. The cavern before him seemed to go on for miles. There was no sound around him – nothing but the steady drip of a leaking pipe, somewhere off to his right.

 _The world doesn't make sense anymore_ , he thought to himself.

He missed the old days so much, the "simple" days, when everything was so much easier. It didn't always seem like it – Merlin knew, Hermione didn't realize this – but Ron lived by a simple set of rules. He had a job, a duty to fulfill, and it was what ruled his life.

Harry and Hermione were his best friends. _Support and protect_. _Make Harry have fun. Make Hermione lighten up. Keep Harry from buckling under the weight of the world. Shield Hermione from the prejudices of their world._

Ginny was his sister. _Keep boys away from her. Make her feel better when she's homesick. Otherwise, leave her alone. Let her live her life._

Fred and George were pains in his arse. _Protect friends from their stupid pranks – protect them from people who want revenge. Run interference so no one realizes how serious they really are. Cover for them whenever possible. Be there when Fred needs to talk, when George needs to disappear for a while._

Charlie and Bill were great pen pals. Perce was an embarrassment. Tests were hard and classwork was annoying. There was the occasional evil plot. They put a stop to it, then everything went back to normal.

Somehow, he doubted there would be any more "normal" ever again. Not the way he had known it.

Setting the chest down on the ground, Ron stepped back and stared suspiciously at the ornate lid. He couldn't believe that, as paranoid as Moody was, the thing wasn't booby-trapped somehow. Letting out a shaky breath, he stepped forward and tapped his wand on the tip.

A blue mist spread through the large, ornate "M" carved onto the lid and pooled in the center. It swirled in place then floated upward, Moody's gravelly voice echoing from the light.

"Password," his dead mentor's voice growled, and Ron smiled grimly.

" _Moliri_ ," he whispered, and the light disappeared in a flash. The lid popped open, and Ron knelt and carefully reached into the chest.

Photographs, a couple scraps of paper, and a pressed yellow rose rested on the top. Ron set them on the cavern floor gently and pulled out three jagged daggers beneath, each with a different colored handle. A crooked oak wand was tucked into the side of the chest, along with a small axe and several other weapons. Laying in the bottom was a _crystal ball_ , of all things, and a small pendant of the moon. Sitting gently beneath the pendant was a yellowed piece of parchment, the writing on it faded. Ron smiled sadly as he carefully picked up the parchment. His eyes went straight to the bottom of the page -

" _All my love, Cassie,"_ he said quietly, and he set the parchment and the pendant down carefully with the pressed rose.

With shaking hands, Ron lifted a set of glowing vials from the bottom of the chest. A scroll of parchment fell from between the vials with "Weasley" written on the outside, and Ron swallowed.

He slid his wand carefully into the holster on his arm, sat down on the cavern floor, and unrolled the parchment.

* * *

 _Hospital Wing_

 _Hogwarts_

 _November 3_ _rd_ _, 1996_

 _10:35 PM_

Harry scrubbed the palm of his hand over his face, his eyes stinging as he blinked harshly. He looked down at Hermione, his other hand wrapped around one of hers as she lay still and silent in the hospital bed. A sickly green number floated above her head, and every so often it would let out a soft _beep_ and the number would change, slowly inching its way down.

They had almost been too late, Pomfrey had told him. The toxicity of her blood had been well over sixty percent.

Tears stung at his eyes as he forced back the thought of Hermione alone in a cell, thinking she would –

He shook his head to clear it, his eyes hardening. Dolohov would _pay_ , he thought harshly. He would give them a reason to fear.

The Potter heir stretched in his seat, twisting his back slightly to loosen it, and his eyes fell on the other set of chairs in the little enclosure. Directly across from him, Luna sat curled across a pair of chairs, her legs flung over the arm of the second chair. Her shoulders were hunched and her brow furrowed. A sad smile crossed his face as he watched her, dark looks flitting across her face every so often even in sleep.

 _Sometimes I wonder_ , he thought darkly _, am I really doing them any favors by staying_?

He looked down at Hermione's face again, then pushed to his feet and parted the curtains around the space carefully. Crossing the wing, he sat down in the chair next to Neville's bed and watched his friend sleep, his eyes taking in the bruises and cuts all along the teen's face, the sickly green paste spread across his suspended arm. The blankets were bunched near Neville's waist, another paste, this one a soft orange, spread across his ribs and his side.

Lestrange would have her day, as well, he thought to himself, and the corner of his mouth twitched in a twisted smile as the madwoman's face appeared in his mind.

They had made it back from Malfoy Manor in the early dawn hours that morning. Hermione and Neville had been whisked off to the hospital wing immediately, and if he were being honest, neither he nor Ron had really paid attention to much else. They had gone right after their friends, ignoring any protests from Pomfrey and Snape that they would get in the way.

In fact, rather than listen to the teachers, the entire Gryffindor contingent of the DA had taken up guard positions outside the Hospital Wing doors. It was a nice gesture.

Neville had woken somewhere around 3, coming to with a vicious swing of his good arm. Pomfrey had to spell the blankets to pin him down until he calmed, which took several minutes. When he registered his surroundings, the poor bloke had seemed embarrassed – but Harry and Ginny downplayed it, and Ron and Luna had been at Hermione's closed-in bedside. There was no reason, after everything, for Neville to be embarrassed. But Harry and Ginny – they could both understand.

It had taken hours for Pomfrey to apply the paste that was spread over much of his body. Hours in which Snape had, with Tonks and Shack's help, attached an IV to Hermione and put who-knows-what in her blood. And through it all, Hermione hadn't stirred.

It was taking everything Harry had not to just _bolt_. Go to Gryffindor Tower, pack a bag, hop on his broomstick, and just keep riding – until he was far from anyone and everyone. Until he had left behind everyone who kept getting hurt for knowing him.

 _Quit trying to be a hero and just be a soldier_! Kingsley's voice echoed in his mind, and Harry flinched. How was he supposed to do that? How could he 'just' be a soldier when people kept dying, kept suffering because of him?

 _Don't I owe it to them?_ he asked himself sadly. _Don't I have to at least_ _ **try**_ _to live up to the hype?_

The Boy-Who-Lived sat silently in the darkness, at the bedside of the boy who was _almost_ him, and fought back tears.

* * *

 _Slytherin Dungeons_

 _Hogwarts_

 _November 3_ _rd_ _, 1996_

 _10:45 PM_

Ginny peered around the corner, her eyes narrowed as she watched the group of students walk down the hallway. The hospital wing had been stifling – looking at Hermione's still and pale face was too much. She had made her excuses and vanished from the wing over an hour ago, her pace hurried and her eyes fixed on the ground in front of her.

And if Harry's slightly judging stare, if Luna's knowing one, had bothered her – well, she didn't show it, did she?

She stood in the corridor, eyes fixed on the blank stretch of wall ahead, as Zabini and Greengrass walked quietly down the hall, their heads together and speaking in quick, hushed voices. _Somebody_ had to keep an eye on their new supposed _allies_ , she thought with a scowl.

Malfoy's appearance at exactly the right time, after all, just didn't ring true with her.

 _Never trust a thing that thinks for itself,_ her father's voice echoed in her mind, _if you can't tell where it keeps its brain_.

As she watched, Greengrass and Zabini walked into an unused classroom, and the heavy oak door slammed shut behind them. She tapped her wand on her head and her form shimmered once, before blending in with the wall behind her. With light, careful steps, she crossed the corridor and moved over to stand beside the door. " _Subasculti_ ," she breathed, and their voices began to sound through the stone wall.

"Has he come out of his room yet?" Greengrass was asking, and after a moment's pause, Parkinson spoke.

"No, not yet," the nasally-voiced girl replied. "He's trying to figure out what he's going to say to everyone. I mean – he could just tell them that his father ordered him to get close to Potter but – "

"But Nott's little announcement ruined that," Zabini said sourly, and Ginny raised an eyebrow.

"Forget what he's going to tell everyone," Greengrass said sharply. "What are we going to _do_?"

Parkinson huffed. "Well, you're fine, Blaise. Isn't your mother still in South America somewhere?"

A soft, angry sounding laugh wafted through the air. "Si," he replied. "She's _in love_ this time."

Greengrass and Parkinson snorted at once, and Ginny's eyebrow practically disappeared into her hairline.

"Mother is in France still, and my father will do as I say," Greengrass replied. "But for our housemates, our _Head of House_ – "

"I'll figure something out!" Parkinson snapped. "For now, if someone comments or questions you, just smirk and don't say anything. Let them wonder."

"Let them plan, you mean," Zabini scoffed. "We'll be the next ones with prices on our heads."

"We'll be fine," Parkinson replied dismissively, and Ginny could almost see the black-haired witch tossing her head in temper. "If they were smart enough to take us down, they would be smart enough to do what we're doing."

"Any fool can get lucky once," Greengrass said quietly, and the room went silent.

Ginny took a step away from the door as rustling sounded from the other side of the wall. Moving back a few paces, she watched as the trio of Slytherins emerged into the corridor and walked off into the darkness, her eyes following their steps carefully.

"Smart enough to do _what_ , Parkinson?" Ginny muttered under her breath, her eyes flashing. The Gryffindor witch had heard enough. The Slytherins were _not_ on their side.

 _Watch your step_ , she thought darkly, and with a steady hand, she slid her stiletto blade back into its holster.

And turning on her heel, she made her way back up through the castle, to her best friend's side.

* * *

 _Hospital Wing_

 _Hogwarts_

 _November 4_ _th_ _, 1996_

 _10:52 AM_

Hermione Granger woke with a gasp.

Eyes wide, she pushed herself into a seated position, searching frantically for her wand. Her breath came in a rush, ragged little choking noises sounding from her throat. A shout sounded from a few feet away and as the haze over her eyes cleared, Pomfrey's warm, worried face came into view.

Shocked, she stared blankly at the mediwitch. _I'm at Hogwarts_ , she thought to herself. _I made it out?_

Turning sharply, she looked frantically through the ward for Neville, the mediwitch's voice sounding through a strange buzzing noise around her. Her eyes rested on her battered friend and she let out a sigh of relief –

And everything rushed back. Dolohov's face flashed through her mind, followed by a searing pain and the sound of her own scream. She smelled the dank air of the dungeons, felt the cold bite of the stone floor. Bile rose in her throat as her skin began to crawl and she jumped to her feet, jerking away from the mediwitch's hand on her shoulder.

"Don't!" she said sharply, her voice coming out in a harsh, raspy growl. "Don't touch me." Her throat burned and her skin prickled even further as the mediwitch stared at her, a strange sadness in her eyes. Hermione just shook her head, wrapping one arm around her own torso as she tucked her other hand over her mouth, elbow held close to her front across her chest.

"Hermione," Pomfrey began quietly.

"No, no – " Hermione shook her head, backing away until her legs hit the edge of the mattress. She lost her balance and fell back onto edge of the bed, shaking. "Don't touch me. Please don't touch me."

Pomfrey closed her eyes as Hermione curled into a ball on the mattress. "Hermione, love," the mediwitch said gently. "I need to check you for further injuries. And for – "

She stopped. Hermione's tears slowed and she straightened up gingerly, staring at the mediwitch with wide eyes.

"I'm not – " she whispered. "I'm not, I _can't_ – "

"We need to be sure," Pomfrey said carefully, watching Hermione's face closely.

"I – alright." Hermione let out a shaky breath, closing her eyes quickly, then opening them again. "What do I do?"

"Just try to be still," Pomfrey replied, and Hermione nodded. The mediwitch took a careful step forward and Hermione tensed, everything in her screaming to fight, to run, to _something_ –

She sat perfectly still, her eyes riveted on the mediwitch's wand. As Pomfrey stood close enough to touch her, Hermione felt her skin begin to crawl again, and swallowed back bile yet again. _Don't move, don't move, you don't need to fight, she's not –_

The mediwitch let out a quiet sigh of relief, and Hermione jerked her gaze to the matron's face. "You're not pregnant," Pomfrey said simply.

Hermione closed her eyes.

"I'll need to test for diseases, but I can check the blood sample we took when you first arrived," the mediwitch continued. Pomfrey sat in a nearby chair, and a voice in the back of Hermione's mind breathed a sigh of relief as the woman backed off.

"Can you tell me where you still feel pain?" Pomfrey asked, and Hermione swallowed weakly.

"My throat – my voice doesn't sound right, and my throat is burning. My ribs, my left arm. And between – "

She stopped suddenly, a choked sob forming in her throat, and tears began to slip down her face.

"Oh, God," she whispered, as her skin began to crawl again, and _little lionness_ echoed through her mind. "Oh God!"

The sound of someone running echoed through the halls, and Pomfrey spun to see McGonagall jump in mid-air, shrinking and sprouting fur as she changed. The gray tabby climbed up on the bed beside Hermione, purring emphatically, and Hermione collapsed, tears flowing freely as she curled around the Animagus.

* * *

Pomfrey stood carefully and walked away, tears prickling at her eyes. _This is going to take a while_ , she thought to herself sadly. She stopped quietly by Neville's bedside and watched the young man breathe for a few moments, her eyes sliding critically across his many lacerations. They were healing, albeit slowly. She was almost positive that he had been cursed with something to impede the healing process.

"Poppy," a deep voice sounded behind her, and the mediwitch started, spinning on her heel to see Shacklebolt, Tonks, and Bill and Arthur Weasley standing in the doorway. With a shushing gesture, she led the group to her office, and pushed the door until it was open only a crack. Glancing down the wing, she watched a moment as Hermione cried herself to sleep, the purring Animagus curled up at her side.

She sat at her desk, eyes staring blankly ahead, and suddenly, a glass of scotch appeared in her vision. She looked up at the kind, shadowed eyes of Arthur Weasley, smiling sightly as she picked up the glass. Turning in her chair, she watched as the Weasley patriarch leaned against the nearby couch, with Bill and Tonks sitting side-by-side. Kingsley, she noticed was leaning against the wall opposite her door, and his gaze was fixed on the end of the wing.

"How bad is it?" Arthur asked quietly, and Poppy choked back a sob.

"Oh, that poor girl," she whispered, and Tonks and Kingsley stiffened.

"So, they did," Bill said hollowly, and Poppy nodded.

"At least once," she said quietly, "but the way she's acting, I wouldn't be surprised if it were nonstop."

Every man in the room flinched, and Tonks met Poppy's eyes with unbridled fury.

"It's going to take a _lot of time_ " Poppy said forcefully, "for her to be able to handle normal physical contact. Even a simple hug may take months or years before it doesn't bother her." Downing the glass, Poppy sat for a moment in silence, then looked at them all seriously. "You need to impress upon her friends the importance of giving her space. This is _scarring_. Healing from this cannot be rushed, and it doesn't matter how much she loves and trusts her friends, even her family. They need to let her initiate _all_ contact."

"We remember the training, Poppy," Kingsley said sharply, his eyes still fixed on the sleeping girl at the end of the wing.

Poppy just looked at him, and his lips twisted in a grimace of an apology.

"Ron," Bill muttered, and Arthur sighed, shaking his head.

"I'll talk with him," the eldest Weasley said quietly. "If he keeps his space physically, then hopefully, neither of them will be – "

Poppy just shook he head and refilled her glass.

* * *

 _Somewhere near Inverness_

 _Scotland_

 _November 4_ _th_ _, 1996_

 _1:13 PM_

"Not bad, Potter," Ginny said approvingly, stepping through the doorway into the foyer. Luna looked at her friends with a smile, her eyes darkening a bit as she took in Harry's expression.

Her dearest friend's eyes seemed ever more haunted the last several days, and she truly didn't know how to fix it.

Shaking her head to clear the Nargles, Luna looked around the space. "How many rooms are there?" she asked softly, and Harry started towards the stairs ahead of them.

"Fifteen bedrooms, near as we can tell," he replied. "We didn't finish sweeping the place the other day, so wands out."

Luna sighed as she watched him head up the stairs. His voice was flat and emotionless, his eyes haunted, his stance tense.

Ginny met her eyes and Luna knew that her oldest friend was thinking the same thing. Harry was right on the edge.

With another tired sigh, Luna waved her wand and out flew several glowing moths, disappearing down the corridors and up the stairs around them. As they flitted to a stop, she stood still and closed her eyes. In her mind, she saw over a dozen rooms, all set up as though dormitories, with two or three bedroom suites each. One floor above were four apartments, each with two bedrooms, an office, and a small bathroom.

She opened her eyes and found Ginny and Harry looking at her curiously – and in Ginny's case, with a hint of impatience. Harry had stopped on the stair and half-turned, one hand still resting on the banister.

"Fourteen rooms, two and three beds each," she said simply, "and four sets of private rooms. We should look into those first." She smiled dreamily, skipping up the stairs. "This place could be perfect."

Behind her, Harry and Ginny exchanged half-amused, half long-suffering looks, and followed their friend up the stairs.

They emerged into a dark hallway, the eerie flickering of her moths the only light around them. With a quick wave of Ginny's wand, torches around them flared to light, and Harry stepped up beside them, his eyes narrowed and his wand jutting forward as he scanned their surroundings for threats.

"There's nothing here, Harry," Luna said softly, and Harry nodded shortly, lowering his wand slightly as he stare ahead of them.

The hallway was long and dank, that terrible smell of centuries-old musk hanging in the air. The torches flickered wildly with all the dust in the air, and Luna quickly conjured jars to surround the open flames.

" _Lumos,_ " Harry whispered, and a broad ray of blinding light shot from his wand. He clenched his fist around the wooden surface and the light slowly dimmed, easing back to something more manageable. Ginny turned her head and narrowed her eyes at him, a slight grimace on her face, then turned back to Luna with a meaningful look. Luna simply nodded. His energies and emotions were all over the place.

"Let's go check it out," Ginny said easily, and Luna nodded, falling into step behind her redheaded friend.

They moved through the rooms with a quick and efficient pace, their eyes peeled for anything that would attack. In one room, they found a boggart – Luna took it out before Harry or Ginny could get close. Still another room housed a trapped brownie colony. Spotless, that space was. At the end of the hall was a locked door that none of their spells opened. Harry had stood in the doorway for nearly half an hour, glaring at the door as though willing it to open. Finally, Luna had coaxed him away, and dragged him up the stairs to their right.

The next floor housed the apartments, and Harry and Ginny exclaimed aloud when they saw the opulence in each of these rooms. It looked as though they had originally been intended as the Founders' rooms, with their décor leaning towards each of the house colors. After a quick check of the rooms for any nasties, and a hurried cleaning spell, Ginny flopped down on a bed in the green rooms and closed her eyes.

"A break," she murmured. "I need a break."

Harry shook his head, but flopped down on the bed beside her and stretched his arms behind his head. Luna simply stood there, her eyes narrowed as she looked around the room.

There was something strange in the air here, Luna mused to herself, something almost sad. She could feel, of course, the dark, angry energy Harry had spoken of – but to her, it seemed tinged with melancholy. Someone had done something here – something they deeply regretted that could never be taken back.

She moved across the room to the ornate table that stood in the corner, opposite the bed that Harry and Ginny had collapsed upon. Trailing her fingers across the surface, she lightly traced over the Slytherin crest etched on the top of the desk. She let her fingers run down the front of the desk, eyes closed as she reached out with her senses.

A sudden _click_ sounded, and Luna opened her eyes and smiled. Reaching into the newly opened compartment, she unearthed a small, ornate box and a bound leather journal. Tucking the two items into her robes, she glanced back at Harry and Ginny. Both had their eyes closed and seemed only moments from sleep.

Bill had been right, Luna thought to herself. It had definitely been worth paying close attention to Slytherin's quarters.

Crossing the room, she shook Harry and Ginny to stir them, and insisted forcefully that they finish their sweep and return to the castle, to check on Hermione.

 _Time to see what I can do for my love_ , Luna thought with a sad smile.

* * *

 _Shell Cottage_

 _Tinworth, Cornwall_

 _November 4_ _th_ _, 1996_

 _2:22 PM_

Bill Weasley sat on his long, leather couch, his feet propped up on his coffee table as he stared into the flickering flames. It was a cold, miserable day, made ever the worse by the storm rolling in over the beach. Usually, he loved to sit outside and watch the storm clouds gather, loved the feel and smell of the rain along the water.

Today, he would rather be anywhere else.

He looked over at the book spread open on his coffee table, eyes dark and brow furrowed as his eyes ran over the cuneiform again. He had read the text over and over – and had his beautiful bride-to-be look it over as well. Each time, they had come to the same conclusion.

So, how to tell Harry?

He scowled, throwing his head back and pressing back against the couch pillows. He was too damn young for this.

The fire flared green and he sat up slightly as Tonks stumbled through, Lupin and Shack following in her clumsy wake. A happy voice sounded from the other room as Fleur walked in from the kitchen to greet the new arrivals, and Lupin followed her back into the kitchen chattering happily in French. As he watched, Tonks shot Kingsley a long-suffering look, and the burly Auror just chuckled. With an aggravated sigh, Bill turned away and closed his eyes.

The heavy footfalls of clumsy feet sheathed in Doc Martens echoed through the room as Tonks crossed over and flopped down beside him without a word.

"So," she said after a moment's silence. "What now?"

Bill just opened one eye and glared.

* * *

"There isn't much room for interpretation here," Kingsley said quietly, passing the book back over to Fleur. The blonde part-Veela closed the heavy tome and set it back in the large chest behind Bill's end of the couch, closing and locking the chest with a tap of her wand. "So what does this mean?"

"Nothing says Harry is going to die," Lupin insisted, and everyone turned to look at him. "If the prophecy is absolute, then yes, he'll have to fight – "

"Which means we made the right choice, training them," Tonks spoke up and Lupin glared at her balefully, as though it was an argument they had had before. Kingsley's lips twitched slightly as he watched the budding couple. Sooner or later, Lupin would have to admit he loved the pink-haired disaster at his left. Kingsley made a mental note to have a talk with the man, then turned his attention back to the conversation.

" – this secret power. There's nothing saying what it is," Bill said heatedly, "and nothing has happened to suggest that Harry is going to suddenly come into some superpower."

The burly Auror scoffed, one large hand wrapped around his coffee mug, and shrugged when everyone turned to look at him.

"There's no magical superpower that's going to defeat Voldemort," he said simply. "If you ask me, Harry's "power the Dark Lord knows not" is his ability to motivate people. To make them want to fight with and for him. Look at the D.A."

Tonks just shook her head. "Voldemort motivates people," she said darkly. "Look at my aunts."

"But not the same way," Kingsley countered. "His people do as he wishes out of fear, and because it goes along with their own agendas anyway. Harry? He inspires. We've both seen it."

"Maybe," Lupin said softly. "But in the meantime, how many more attacks before we get them out of that school?"

The others fell silent.

"The fortress we took Harry and Ron to," Bill said after a moment, looking over at Kingsley. "If it were cleaned up a bit, it would make a good emergency base."

"You gave Harry back the key," Kingsley pointed out. "We can't get in without him."

"I'll talk to him," Bill replied. "But we should do a full sweep, just in case. Who knows what's in those lower floors?"

The others nodded.

"Next agenda," Lupin said with a slight frown. "Ron. Kingsley, have you any idea what was in that chest Moody left to him?"

Kingsley frowned, shaking his head. "Moody kept it close to the vest. I think I was probably the only one who knew that it even existed. All he would say was that it was things that would help the boy get ready for his 'job.'"

Bill flinched. Whatever Moody had thought his baby brother's "job" was, it couldn't be anything pleasant.

"Beel, you should find out," Fleur said softly, and he nodded. Fleur sat lightly on the arm of the couch beside him, and leaned onto his shoulder as she pressed a kiss to his head.

"What else have we got?" Kingsley asked.

"Luna and I haven't found anything yet," Bill answered with a sigh. "But that girl is creative. We've made it through the majority of the tomes that had been in the Black library and we've found a few protection spells, but nothing to do what we want just yet. She's due in _late_ this evening for another research session."

"The others still don't know?" Lupin asked sharply, and Bill grinned.

"Not a clue. She's been sneaking out every other night for weeks."

"The Order," Tonks said, sharply interrupting everyone's amusement at the spacey Ravenclaw's sneakiness.

"Dumbledore hasn't called a full meeting in weeks," Kingsley said lightly, and Fleur and Lupin shook their heads.

"He must, after Hermione and Neville's rescue, and Moody's loss," Lupin replied. "He will call one, and soon. The question is – do we tell him what we are doing?"

An uncomfortable silence filled the room again, and everyone simply looked at each other. Finally, clearing is throat, Kingsley spoke up.

"No," he said decisively. "He means well, but his methodology is – questionable."

"Chamber of Secrets. Sirius," Lupin agreed quietly, his head in his hands. Beside him, Tonks reached over and clasped her hand on his shoulder. The graying werewolf turned his head, reaching up to touch her hand lightly and gave her a soft smile.

"If he's truly going to move on the Ministry soon, we need every ally we can get," Tonks spoke up. "People who can at least spy for us and – "

Bill shook his head, a sardonic smile twisting his lips. "Who, exactly, do you suggest we trust with what we know?"

His eyes slid down to the coffee table again, to the rolled piece of parchment lying in the center.

And the names listed down the parchment.

* * *

 _Just outside Carlisle_

 _England_

 _November 4_ _th_ _, 1996_

 _2:42 PM_

She was officially buggered.

Abby leaned up against the door to her maroon Volvo, her arms folded across her chest as she stared off down the long, winding road. Beside her, Midas had moved over into her driver's seat and was whining pitifully. The poor boy was tired of riding.

The drive north – well, it just couldn't be _that_ far. Great Britain was only a twelve hour drive, from Portsmouth at the south to Thurso at the northern tip. But Abby was _scared_ , bloody hell was she scared, and she didn't know who to trust, so she stuck to back roads the whole drive.

Now, she had suddenly ended up on a motorway. In her mind, she could hear Samwise from the Tolkein books yelling, "Get off the road!"

She shook her head as she looked around. She was bloody losing it.

Rearing back, she kicked her front driver's side tire, and more steam billowed up out from under the hood of her auto. She groaned, dropping her head into her hands, and Midas whined again, leaning forward to lick at the hands covering her face.

She peeked out between her fingers and smiled at the brindle dog. "It's okay, boy," she said quietly. "We'll be alright."

The dog whined once more, and Abby pushed gently at his shoulder, shoving him out of her seat. She climbed back into the vehicle and, with one hand wrapped around that damned pendant, she cranked the engine.

The motor spluttered to a start, and she let out a gleeful shout as Midas barked happily. Pulling back onto the road, she looked around her carefully, a few shimmers popping up here and there from within the trees as she ran her fingers over the pendant.

"Midas," she said quietly. "When I get this thing delivered and we can _go home_ , I swear, you and I are going on holiday for at least a week."

The dog simply looked at her and huffed, laying down in the passengers seat with a sigh. She simply looked over at her dog and smiled.

They rode in silence, her sputtering and suffering auto jerking every time she had to slow down and speed up. She made it into the town proper and pulled up to a petrol station, parking and giving Midas a stern order to stay. A few moments later, she walked out of the station and began fueling up her auto.

Suddenly, Midas started to growl, and the chill in the air grew deeper. Abby shivered, hurriedly stowing the fuel pump and climbing back into her auto. She revved the engine and pulled out of the station, glancing back over her shoulder with the pendant again caught in her hand.

Black-cloaked figures stood in the road behind her, their robes whipping in the sudden wind, and Abby slammed her foot down on the gas.

 _Get off the road_! echoed in her mind again, and she turned sharply at an intersection, dust billowing under her tires as the sky opened up above her. Slamming down on the gas again, she shot her motor up to 144 kilometers/hour and watched the cloaked figures fall back behind her.

She turned off on a dirt road near a lake, and parked her auto under a giant willow tree. Thunking her head down on the steering wheel, she closed her eyes and let out a choked sob.

Then she sat up, brushed her hair back from her eyes, wiped her hands down her face, and started the engine again.

 _Back. Roads_ , she thought to herself angrily, even as Midas settled in to sleep beside her again.

* * *

 _Hospital Wing_

 _Hogwarts_

 _November 4_ _th_ _, 1996_

 _3:07 PM_

Ron didn't know what to do.

He stood in the opening of the curtains, his brow furrowed, shoulders hunched, and hands shoved in his pockets. With solemn eyes, he watched as Hermione slept, her face scrunched up as if in pain even still. Her fingers twitched by her sides, small whimpers escaping her lips every now and then.

He took a step forward, swallowing harshly, and moved carefully to one of the bedside chairs, lowering himself down slowly so as not to make a sound. Leaning forward, his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped and hanging down between his knees, he sat and watched silently as she slept.

His eyes roved over her still frame, taking in the small, oval bruises on her neck, the shallow cuts on her face and arms, the huge purple shadows and red chafing around her wrists and lower arms. And in the back of his head, Marlene McKinnon's screams echoed.

A sudden rustling sounded, and Ron looked up as his father's shadow fell over him in the harsh light. The balding redhead walked over and took the chair beside his youngest son, eyes soft and sad.

Ron glanced at him a moment then immediately turned away, his eyes darting straight back to Hermione's face.

"What you kids did was very brave," his father said quietly. "Foolish, but brave."

Ron snorted and said nothing. He could feel his father's eyes on him as he continued to watch his sleeping best friend.

"Hermione – Hermione has been through something, son," Arthur said hesitantly. "Something that is going to be very hard to understand. And she's going to need her space. You need to realize that she – "

Here, his father's voice cracked, and Ron turned his head slowly to look at the older man. Arthur Weasley took a deep breath before he continued.

"You need to realize, Ron, that she probably won't be able to stand people touching her for a while. Not a hug, not a handshake, nothing. She's going to need – "

Ron's eyes hardened as he stared at his father. Marlene's horrified, broken screams reached a fevered pitch. "You _must be joking_ ," he said harshly, and his father flinched. "Are you really sitting here, telling _me_ how to deal with my best friend after she's been assaulted? Did you really think that _I_ , of all people, wouldn't understand?"

Arthur Weasley flinched again, opening his mouth to respond, and Ron shook his head roughly.

"Do you have _any_ idea, do any of you have _any_ _idea,_ what is in my head?" he asked in a hard whisper. "What I see every time I close my eyes?"

"Son," Arthur started, and Ron shook his head once more.

"Don't, Dad," Ron said quietly. "Don't keep on proving how little you know me. Just – just leave me be."

And turning away, he resumed his vigil. Beside him, Arthur Weasley stood up slowly, and walked out of the wing.

Ron was silent for a long time, sitting at Hermione's side, lost in his thoughts. After a time, the curtains parted again and Harry, Ginny, and Luna filed in, taking up the other chairs.

It was nearly seven at night when Hermione's eyes finally opened for the second time since her escape. She shifted in the bed, her whimpers abruptly stopping, and suddenly her eyes shot open, fear and confusion clouding her features. She blinked a couple times then let out a ragged sigh as realization sunk in. Looking around her with cautious eyes, she pushed carefully to a seated position, wincing slightly as she moved.

Turning her head, she looked straight at Harry and Ron, a small smile teasing her lips. "Hello," she said carefully, and Ginny let out a sob.

Hermione's features immediately blanked, and Ginny flinched.

"Hi, stranger," Ron said lightly, as Harry glared at Ginny over Hermione's head. His sister flushed with shame as Ron looked over at her and winked. "What are you lazing around for?" he asked with an easy grin, and Hermione smiled shakily.

Marlene's screams finally faded into the background of his mind, and he sat there, quietly and carefully joking and prodding at each of them until all of them finally relaxed.

It was, after all, his job to keep them all sane.

* * *

Hours later, Neville was awake again as well, and Ron and Ginny coaxed Pomfrey into moving his bed so that he could be with the group. They had talked and laughed like nothing had happened, and if Hermione's eyes clouded every so often, or she leaned back a bit when someone moved unexpectedly – if Neville's eye were dark and his hands were clenched in his lap – nobody commented. They commandeered other beds and pushed them all close, Ginny and Luna sprawled out on one as Harry and Ron kicked back on another.

Finally, Hermione seemed to relax a bit.

"It's something poisoning my blood," she said quietly. She looked at each of them in turn, watching all their faces – especially Harry, Ron and Ginny – for a reaction. Harry's face fell a bit, as did Ginny's, and Hermione started to shrink back, but with a deep breath, she forced herself to keep talking. "Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey were able to create a – a treatment of some sort, using phoenix tears and a few other ingredients, to try to clear my bloodstream. It works, but only for a few days."

"And it's getting less and less effective over time?" Neville asked quietly. Hermione nodded.

"I was getting infusions every two weeks. As of Halloween, it's only lasting a week now."

Harry and Ron exchanged a look, Luna stared at Hermione thoughtfully, and Ginny bit her lip, her brow furrowing.

"So we'll find something else," Ron said simply, and everyone turned to stare at the redheaded Gryffindor.

"If Professor – "

Ron shook his head, cutting Hermione off. "Look, Hermione, I know you trust Snape," he said calmly. "Hell, I'll even admit he's not all bad. He helped me this summer, as well." Swallowing back the indignation that came from admitting Snape wasn't _completely_ evil, he continued, "But anybody can miss something. Especially someone who thinks they know everything."

Harry scowled and Ginny nodded fervently as Neville and Luna exchanged a nervous glance.

"So the question is, where do we look for a cure to poisoned blood? How would we even go about this?" Neville said slowly.

"We could ask Pomfrey for her notes," Luna suggested half-heartedly, and everyone shook their heads before she even finished the sentence. Hermione simply sat silently on her bed, her gaze sliding over each of them in turn

"Nope," Ginny said decisively. "I'll talk to Tonks. She'll help. Remus and Bill too, maybe," she mused.

"Not Lupin or Bill," Harry vetoed. "Lupin would likely tell someone, and Bill – I don't want to put him in the middle still."

Luna glanced at Harry's face a moment before turning to Hermione and smiling. "Don't you worry," she said softly, "we'll find a way."

* * *

 _Pepperidge Lane_

 _Glasgow, Scotland_

 _November 4_ _th_ _, 1996_

 _9:57 PM_

He appeared on the corner of a darkened street, his black cloak drawn tightly around his frame. Eyes narrowed, he took in the area around him, nodding with satisfaction at the empty street. He stayed where he had landed a moment, confirming with his wand what his eyes told him, then turned and strode down the cobblestone walk.

He paused but a moment at a solitary mailbox outside a darkened and deserted house. Pressing his palm to the front of the mailbox, he whispered a spell, and suddenly, the house in front of him lit up. He stepped through the wards and into the yard, and the front door swung open.

Emma Granger stood in the doorway of the bright house, her body framed by soft light as she smiled at him. "Professor!" the brunette woman exclaimed. "This is a surprise. Won't you come in?"

Severus Snape smiled to himself, even as he nodded gruffly at the woman, and crossed the yard, shutting the door behind himself carefully.

From the street, the house went dark.

* * *

 _Hospital Wing_

 _Hogwarts_

 _November 4_ _th_ _, 1996_

 _11:37 PM_

The figure sat silently at her bedside, his eyes solemn and shadowed. He watched as she slept, his eyes roving over every cut and scrape on her face and neck, the bruises, the marks. A quiet fury flared to life inside him as he sat there in the darkness.

 _Wasn't it his job, to protect the helpless?_

He scoffed to himself immediately. 'Helpless' wasn't a word to describe Hermione Granger. Bloody hell, the kids had even said she had already gotten herself and Neville out, and had even engineered a way for them all to escape. She hadn't exactly sat back and waited for a rescue.

 _The kids_ , he thought to himself with a scowl.

He watched as she curled in on herself, whimpering as she kicked aimlessly, as though she were running. Muttering under his breath, he leaned forward, grabbing one of her hands between his dark hands without thinking.

And she stilled, her breathing slowing to a normal pace, her whimpers subsiding, and clutched his hand.

He stared, his heart racing. He shouldn't have touched her, he knew that. Assault victims were extremely jumpy, and rightfully so, and she didn't even really _know_ him –

He moved to let go of her hand, and she gripped tightly to his right palm, bringing up her other hand in her sleep to hold on. With wide eyes, he watched as she tucked his hand under her chin and drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

 _Bloody buggering hell._

He waited a good twenty minutes, watching her face for any sings of wakefulness. Finally, he flexed his fingers and carefully pulled his hand loose from her grip.

He stood quickly but quietly, moving carefully towards the opening in the curtains. With a sad sigh, he glanced back at the sleeping girl who, thankfully, was still at ease. With a muttered curse, he stalked his way across the hospital wing and strode through the doors, heading down to the dungeons.

Banging his fist on the heavy oak door, he braced one arm against the wall and leaned against the doorframe as it swung open. Snape stood there in his traveling cloak, his eyes wary, snow still flecking his greasy hair.

"We need to talk," Shacklebolt said shortly.

Snape sneered, then stepped back. The door shut behind Kingsley with a resounding _thud_ , and the two men stared at each other for a moment in silence. Scoffing, Snape turned on his heel and crossed to the desk, pouring himself a snifter of brandy. He raised the glass to his lips without offering one to the Auror, and Kingsley's lips twisted in a sardonic smile.

Finally, Kingsley spoke. "I found your little altar," he said, his deep, gravelly voice seeming to echo off the stones.

The glass shook in Snape's hand, and the Potions Master spun to face him.

* * *

 _The Astronomy Tower_

 _Hogwarts_

 _November 5_ _th_ _, 1996_

 _12:27 AM_

Ron walked out onto the battlements, his hands shoved in his pockets and his shoulders hunched slightly against the biting wind. He had left the others' sides only just before the stroke of midnight. He and Luna had finally coaxed Harry and Ginny off to bed, and then Luna had slipped away to comfort Harry from his nightmares.

Hermione and Neville were sleeping in the hospital wing – he had peeked in on them on his way up, and seen Shacklebolt leaving.

 _That's a conversation I won't enjoy,_ Ron thought to himself.

He stopped dead in his tracks as he spotted a thin figure standing at the furthest edge of the tower. As he watched, his father looked back at him. The older man opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it immediately and turned away.

Ron shook his head, sighed, and walked over to stand beside his father.

"We only ever wanted to protect you kids, your mother and I," his dad said finally.

"I know."

The balding redhead glanced at his son, his eyes dark and solemn. "Did you know that, when you brought Harry home that first summer – we almost told you he couldn't stay?"

At that, Ron's eyebrows shot up. His parents had never turned away _anyone_. "Come again?"

The older man nodded, staring off into the distance thoughtfully. "We knew. We were close to Dumbledore, so we knew that it wasn't over. Not really. And with all that happened your first year at Hogwarts... that boy was trouble, we had decided."

Arthur heaved a sigh and turned to fully face his son. "But then he was there, in our house and looking at us like he just _knew_ he was going to be sent away, just like always – like he knew that nobody wanted him around. And we just couldn't add to a lifetime of disappointment for that boy. And you – you had always struggled to find a place, Ron, with all your siblings, and you had finally found somewhere where you belonged. Somewhere you felt needed. Who were we, to tale that from you?"

Ron stayed silent.

"But the dangers grew worse and worse each year, and you – you rose to every occasion. You have such _strength_ in you son. I know that. Your mother knows that." Here, his father's voice broke. "We just wish you didn't need to _use_ it so much, that's all."

Ron smiled sadly, clapping his father on the shoulder. He didn't have a bloody clue what to stay, so still, he remained silent. To his surprise, his dad clasped his hand, the older man's face serious and pleading.

"Promise me, Ron," Arthur Weasley said with steely determination. "Promise me that you won't give up. Promise me that we won't lose you."

Ron stared at his father, speechless. After a few moments, he finally spoke. "I'll do whatever I can, Dad."

Arthur smiled, patted his son on the back, and walked away.

Behind him, Ron stood frozen, one hand still in his pocket. With a steady hand, he pulled out the roll of parchment labeled "Weasley" and closed his eyes.

 _I'll do what I can._

* * *

Chapter 8 teaser:

Screams echoed through the tower and Harry shot to his feet, his face thunderous. Beside him, Ginny and Ron jumped up and ran for the stairs. Luna and Neville moved towards the Portrait Hole, their wands outstretched, and they glared at everyone who moved towards the exit.

"Everybody _stay put,"_ Harry shouted, and he made for the stairs after Ron and Ginny.

* * *

~*~SA


End file.
